


Foul Ball

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-19
Updated: 2003-09-19
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	1. Foul Ball

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

"The questions are very familiar," Joe Quincy intoned. "You've heard them before. What did you know and when did you know it?" 

The assistant counsel sat at his desk facing the Deputy Chief of Staff and his assistant who were seated on wooden folding chairs. The humidity in the Steampipe Trunk Distribution Venue hovered around 98 percent and beads of sweat lined the brows of the two men. Both had rolled up their sleeves in an attempt to deal with the sweltering heat. Donna looked cool despite the room temperature and uncomfortable chair, but Joe could see in her face how tense and concerned she was. The men had decided that Joe's office would offer more privacy for this discussion, but the conditions threatened to cut short the conversation. 

"You say you first heard about the Shareef assassination last December when CJ came to you?" 

"Yes," Josh answered impatiently. "Danny Concannon told her he was working on a story that the U.S. government had essentially hijacked Shareef's plane and flown it to Bermuda, where they killed the minister and his assistant. I told her it sounded crazy, but she was sure and well, you know the rest of the story," he finished, standing up and starting to pace. "We've been over this and over this." 

"I know," Joe said soothingly, "but the House Foreign Affairs Committee has scheduled hearings to determine if Bartlet violated international laws by ordering the assassination." 

"It's pretty clear he didn't," Josh argued. 

"But he then engaged in a year-long coverup of the assassination, including covert efforts, using government agencies, to misdirect members of the press. The Committee is debating whether that decision provoked the Qumar government to kidnap the President's daughter which snowballed into the President invoking the 25th, which in turn..." 

"That's bullshit. Who are you kidding? *You're* just on another Republican fishing expedition," Josh exploded. "It's more of the 'Let's kick the President when he's down' crap and exploit any weakness to further *your* agenda." 

"Josh," Donna interjected. "You're not being fair to Joe. He's on our side." 

"First, it's not *my* agenda, Josh," the deputy counsel said quietly. "And second, it does no good blowing up like that. That just feeds into the whole 'these guys are out of control' conspiracy that is circulating among your enemies in Congress. So let's start again. Later that night, Christmas Eve, why did you stop Leo from telling you exactly what was going on?" 

"I don't know," Josh said, flopping back down on the chair, then starting to rise again to pace. Donna reached over and grabbed his hand, silently urging him to stay seated. "There was a lot going on that night. Leo had given me an emergency assignment about a standoff in the Middle East, and then the President wanted a new item inserted into the Federal budget. I guess I wasn't focused." He stole a glance at Donna, remembering what else had addled his brain that Christmas Eve. 

"So you knew something was going on, but didn't pursue it," Joe continued. 

"Well Danny wasn't making waves, CJ was consulting with Leo, I know that now, and I did ask Leo, but he wouldn't tell me anything." 

"I remember my first day at work that you made a reference to something he hadn't told you," Joe pointed out. "Was that it?" 

"Yes," Josh admitted. "He still hadn't told me the details, but I had guessed at that point that Danny was on to the truth." 

"What was your reaction to Leo's information on Christmas Eve?" Joe turned his attention to the blonde assistant facing him. 

"I didn't hear about the Shareef assassination until Zoey was kidnapped," Donna said quietly. 

"Didn't Josh tell you what CJ had said? Over the Christmas break, didn't you and Josh discuss it? Donna, I can't help you if you're not honest with me," Joe insisted. 

"I...I wasn't around during Christmas," Donna said nervously. 

"I don't tell her everything," Josh interrupted. "She doesn't have code clearance." 

Joe continued to look directly at the blonde assistant, ignoring her boss. "During pillow talk, Shareef's assassination never came up? You never discussed efforts to cover up the Administration's actions?" 

Donna smiled. "That's your idea of pillow talk?" 

"Depends who's on the other pillow," Joe grinned, defusing the tension he could feel, but didn't quite understand. "But this administration has a reputation for senior officials revealing secrets to the women with whom they share their beds." 

"That's not fair." Josh stood up, his voice rising. "I'm not John Hoynes and Donna is not some social climbing bimbo..." 

Joe held up his hands in defense. "Donna, I apologize. You know I have the utmost respect for you. But I'm trying to tell you what I think you're going to hear when you get in front of the committee. There are certain members of Congress who aren't big Josh Lyman fans and this is one way to get him for good." 

Donna nodded slowly, her cheeks blushing. "No. Josh never told me about the assassination and I know nothing of any attempt to cover it up...if there was any, which I'm sure there wasn't," she added quickly. 

"So the first time you heard about the Shareef assassination was when Zoey was kidnapped?" Joe repeated. 

Donna nodded again. 

Josh had started to pace again, then whirled around to face the assistant counsel. "Look is there any kind of deal we could make to keep Donna off the witness list?" 

"I don't think you've got anything they want. Even if you resign..." Joe began. 

"Resign?" Donna said sharply. "Why should Josh resign? He hasn't done anything. He didn't know anything. Why him? What would happen if I quit?" 

"They can still call you as a witness whether you work for the White House or not," Joe explained. "And quitting might suggest you had something to hide." 

"But I still want to know why you didn't push Leo for answers in the weeks following the Christmas revelation." Joe turned back to Josh and waited for an answer. 

"It was the Inauguration, we were trying to get the legislative agenda for the new Congress in place, we had to finish the changes to the Federal budget," Josh ticked off each item on his fingers. 

"And you were wooing your assistant in a very public way," Joe said softly. 

The Deputy Chief of Staff and his assistant stared in silence. 

"They know about the leak to the Washington Post about the White House treatment of military attaches. They know that Donna claimed responsibility for the leak. They know about Josh's trip with two other senior members of the Administration and a reporter to Donna's apartment on the night of the Inauguration balls and the scene he made yelling in the street and throwing snowballs at her window. They know that Donna was the only non-senior staff member who was at the swearing-in ceremony for Will Bailey and was also present when the decision was made to invade Kundu. So I repeat, Donna, what did you know and when did you know it?" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Leo whipped off his glasses and stared up at the woman standing in front of his desk. "Say that again!" 

"I've been thinking about having a baby," CJ repeated, one hand nervously tapping an ink pen on the palm of her other hand. "I just wanted your thoughts on the matter." 

"The hell you do." Leo frowned, leaning back in his chair, his eyes drifting to her lower abdomen. "Are you trying to tell me that you're already pregnant?" 

"No." She self-consciously tugged her suit jacket closed. "Danny and I were -" 

"Concannon again. I should have known. In fact I did know he was trouble. Didn't I warn you about seeing him? The conflicts of interest? Now look what's happened!" 

"Leo!" Her voice rose in agitation. "Nothing has happened. I'm just considering it. Besides, you've known I was seeing him for months." 

Leo got to his feet and started pacing. "I never liked it. It was a disaster waiting to happen. But the President and Abbey told me to let you be and so I've stayed out of it. Bad enough that Concannon's got his teeth into the Qumar thing and won't let go - now he's going to embarrass the Administration by knocking up the Press Secretary? Bet he hasn't said a word to you about marriage either." 

CJ's eyes narrowed in anger and her face flushed red. He'd gone too far. 

Leo ignored the warning signs, adding, "An unmarried pregnant Press Secretary? I don't think so. I'm not going to let that happen. If you get pregnant, you'll have to resign." 

She raised her chin. "Somehow I don't think this is the same ultimatum you gave Toby! If I have a child outside marriage, you make me resign! But Toby - Toby you give cigars?" 

Leo stopped his pacing. "It's different. You're the face of the administration. Toby's situation is different." 

CJ shook her head. "I think it's just because I'm a woman. No, Leo. No matter what happens, I won't make it easy for you. You'll have to fire me and then we'll find out if a federal judge sees a difference between my situation and Toby's. That's going to be great PR for the Administration." 

"You're threatening me?" Leo's posture stiffened. 

CJ flinched at the anger in his eyes. "I'm telling you my intentions. I won't be treated differently because of my sex. And I won't let you run my personal life." 

"So you're determined to do this? To have a baby - now? With everything else we've got to deal with?" 

She shook her head. "I don't know, yet. I just wanted to discuss this with you, but I see that was a mistake." 

Leo opened his mouth to reply but a knock on the door and Margaret's entrance stopped him. 

CJ used the interruption to take her leave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"You're late," Mac grumbled as Danny Concannon slid into the bench opposite him. "Whiskey and I were about to order without you." 

"They let you bring your dog in here?" Danny peered under the table at the Irish Wolfhound stretched across the older man's feet. 

"No. They let Whiskey bring me. Ever since she thwarted a wanna-be gang member trying to get his colors by robbing the cash register, the owner lets her eat free. I have to pay for mine." 

The reporter grinned. "Does she get free beer too and, more importantly, does she share?" 

Mac chuckled. "She'll share but she's a bit sloppy with her slurping. I prefer to get my own mug." 

"'Kay. I'll buy my own too, if a waitress ever comes this way." 

"She's been this way three times. Like I said - you're late." 

"I had to do a thing." Danny picked up a menu. "Then I had trouble finding this place. It's a little off my beaten path. In fact it's off most people's beaten paths. Are we hiding?" 

Mac nodded, while at the same time attracting the attention of the man behind the bar. "I don't want to run into any process servers." 

Danny gratefully accepted the beer that appeared in front of him. "Are you being sued by someone?" 

"No. The politicians are trying to drag me into that Qumar business." 

Danny paused, the mug half-way to his mouth. "How are you involved in that?" 

Mac shook his head. "Off the record?" 

"Yeah." Danny took a long sip of the cold liquid. 

"I'm not involved But if they can drag me before one of those Committees, they can try to smear Bartlet by association." 

Danny took another drink, considering the ex-CIA agent sitting across from him. "You have a lot of baggage they could unpack?" 

Mac nodded and almost drained his glass. "I'd rather not spend the Fall wearing a suit and trying not to disclose tradecraft methods and sources. Plus my retirement nest egg doesn't include a couple of million for lawyers." 

"I can understand..." Danny stopped as three plates were slammed down on the table by a guy looking a lot like an old Sumo wrestler wearing a dirty apron and sporting a half dozen tattoos on each massive arm. 

"Thanks, Tiny." Mac gave the man an appreciative nod. 

Danny looked in surprise at the cheeseburger and fries that he hadn't ordered. He wondered why the guy bothered passing out menus. 

"No problem. Any friend of Whiskey's is a friend of mine." The old man leaned down and set one of the plates on the floor for the dog. "No pickles, right?" 

The dog barked and Danny could almost swear she was answering in the affirmative. Either way Whiskey exhibited no reluctance in eating the super-sized cheeseburger. 

"So why did you want to see me?" Mac asked, squirting mustard on his burger. "Better get to it. I have things to do and people to see this afternoon." 

"I wanted your advice." Danny took a bite of his grease-laden meal. 

Mac nodded. "Sure, as long as it's not about women." 

Danny grimaced and then swallowed. "It's not about women, exactly. It's about how you balance a personal life and a professional life." 

"Sounds like it's about women to me," Mac grumbled. "Get more specific and do it quickly - I'm getting older as we speak." 

"My editor wants me to break it off with CJ. He says the conflict of interest is affecting my work." Danny lifted the top bun off his burger and used a napkin to soak up some of the grease floating on top of the meat. 

"I thought you were the one to break the Qumar story? How's he figure that you're going easy on the Bartlet Administration?" 

"He thinks I could have dug deeper and found more dirt - personal stuff." 

"Could you have?" 

"Yeah. But I'm not that interested in reporting dirt." 

Mac nodded and took a long swig on his beer. "I can see where that would be a problem in your profession." 

"My career is going to come to a standstill if I don't jump into the mud hole with the rest of the reporters. But if I do, then I can forget about a relationship with CJ and any future little Concannons." 

"Maybe you need a new career. Ever think about driving a cab?" Mac joked. 

"I'll keep that in mind," Danny answered, giving up on the burger and sliding it under the table to the grateful dog. "How's it going with you and Ms. Fiderer?" 

Mac frowned. "Along with her disapproval of this whole Qumar thing, she's suddenly having problems with my past. It's come to her attention that while she was waving a peace sign in the late 'sixties, I was in a jungle interrogating Viet Cong. Let's just say we have some philosophical differences to work through." 

"Differences that would be more apparent if you get dragged in front of a Senate Committee," Danny surmised, realizing what Mac was really worried about. 

"Yeah." The older man drained his beer and waved at the bartender. "That's one show I'd prefer Debbie not have to tune into." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They walked up the stairs in silence. A call from Oliver Babish had ended the meeting, although not before Donna had reiterated again that she hadn't known about the Shareef assassination before May, 2003. "I read it in the newspaper just like you," she insisted. "No, Danny Concannon didn't give me a preview of the articles. He's a personal friend, but there's a line that we don't cross. I understand he might win a Pulitzer Prize for them. He won one before, did you know?" 

She knew she was babbling by the look on Joe's face, but she did that when she was nervous. She'd start talking and didn't know how to stop. Luckily she was saved by the ringing of the telephone. 

"I was crazed that you were going to meet Jack," Josh said suddenly, stopping on the step. She stumbled slightly trying to face him. 

"Even Leo noticed. He told me to get it together and I tried, but I couldn't get the image out of my mind of you and Jack..." His voice trailed off, then he added, "That's why I didn't focus on the Shareef thing. And then the year before, when the original decision was being made, it was the Amy mess. I couldn't focus on anything but winning the Defense of Marriage vote that had been nearly derailed by my so-called girlfriend. The President had exploded at me in the Oval Office, called me a total incompetent..." 

"Come on Josh," Donna implored. 

"Those weren't his exact words, but it's what he meant," Josh said bitterly. "No wonder he didn't include me in the decision-making process. I let the personal affect the professional. I can't be doing that." 

"What does that mean?" Donna pushed. "Are you agreeing with them? Are you saying we shouldn't be working together because I think we do a pretty good job separating..." 

"I don't know," Josh answered softly. "I'm not sure what works anymore. You're about to be called before a Congressional committee and if they're charitable they'll call you a whore." 

Donna inhaled sharply at his words and started up the steps. Josh grabbed for her hand, but she pulled it free, racing to get away. He barely caught hold of her belt and held on, the two of them teetering on the steps. 

"Let me go," she said, her voice rising. 

"No, listen to me," Josh demanded. "You can't be Susie Creamcheese about this. That's where this is headed. They're going to say you were the leak to Danny Concannon. That you leaked material to the newspapers before." 

"Nice, Josh. You always did have a way with words. 760 verbal was it?" she choked out, tears starting to brim over, as she frantically brushed them away. 

"Joe's right. They'll say I gave you the Shareef story to impress you, just like Hoynes did with Helen Baldwin. They'll say I think with my dick. I gave the heads up to Amy so she could muster her troops and I leaked the nuclear codes to you to get you to sleep with me. I won't be able to get a job flipping burgers in this town," Josh said wearily, as if the energy had been zapped out of him. 

He sat down on the steps, and after a moment, Donna sat next to him and took his hand in hers. 

"How about if we tried to work together on this instead of you being the guy on the white charger to the rescue," Donna said softly, no longer trying to stem the flow of tears. "I'll call Cliff..." 

"No," Josh said forcefully, starting to stand. She pulled him down next to her. 

"He's the majority counsel..." 

"He's your ex-boyfriend." 

"He's a decent man." 

"He almost had you indicted." 

"He made a mistake. I made a mistake. But he did the right thing with Leo." 

"No. Absolutely not. I forbid it," Josh said heatedly. 

"Is that Josh the boss or Josh the fiancee who's being an idiot," Donna said, trying for some levity before things again got out of hand. 

"I'm not kidding. I'm your boss and I said no." 

"You're not my boss anymore and I'll ask Leo." Donna started to stand. 

"Then as your fiancé, I flat out forbid it." Josh stood and faced her. "I'm not kidding. You absolutely can't go to Cliff Calley and ask him to save my butt. No way in hell." 

"If you could get your Texas-sized ego out of the way..." Donna said, her voice starting to rise, but dropping suddenly as Ginger passed them on the steps. 

"It's not my ego. It's a political reality check. I don't want to owe Cliff Calley, Republican wunderkind, anything." 

"Bullshit. You were perfectly willing to talk to him to save Leo. This is to save you and I'd talk to Satan himself if I thought it would make a difference. This isn't what Cliff's about," she hissed. 

"I'm telling you for the last time," Josh said angrily, no longer caring who heard him. "You talk to Cliff Calley and we're through." 

And with that he stormed up the stairs. Donna stared at his retreating figure, then sat down on the steps and let the tears flow. 


	2. Foul Ball 2

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

"Don't look at me like that. There's nothing wrong with our house." Mac set the groceries on the counter and started putting the cold stuff in the refrigerator. 

Whiskey paced behind him, her toenails clacking on the tile. She whined her displeasure. 

"I know you like Debbie's yard, but we're staying here tonight, so get over it." 

The dog whined again and nudged his leg with her wet nose. 

"The squirrels won't forget about you, and neither will Debbie's neighbor's cat. I'm still paying for that she-devil's vet bill, you know." 

Whiskey gave a short bark. 

"Yeah, yeah. I know she started it." Mac opened the freezer and slapped a package of frozen hotdogs on the counter. He emptied the remaining meager contents of the grocery sack into the cupboard next to the stove. 

The dog whined again. 

"Hey, she's not even going to be home tonight anyway. She's going to one of those fancy White House dinners. We'd have to wear tuxes if we went. You know you hate those bowties." 

Whiskey gave up and lay down, resting her head on her paws. 

Mac pulled a beer free from its plastic leash and stashed the rest in the near empty refrigerator. He'd nuke a few hotdogs later. 

"Come on, dog. Let's see what's on ESPN. I feel like a ball game. It'll be nice to watch something that has a limit on the number of foul balls that come into play." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Where's Donna?" Toby stood next to Josh at the bar lining one end of the ballroom. 

"Dunno," Josh mumbled, looking around confused. Sipping Jim Beam from a tumbler, he finally focused on the Director of Communications. "Where's Andi?" 

"Home with the babies. Molly has a cold." Toby ordered a Scotch and soda from the bartender. "Since when do you drink anything harder than beer?" 

"Since I met with Joe Quincy and found out my life, as I know it, is over." 

"We're all in the same boat, Josh. A boat we've been in before, if you remember." 

Josh nodded. "This time I had a clue. The first time, with the MS, I could honestly say I had no idea." 

Toby grunted in agreement. "So what? Knowing or not knowing - doesn't seem to make much difference. I'm going to have to take a second mortgage to pay for an attorney." 

Josh finished his drink and ordered another one. "Sam called. He offered to represent one of us for free. Wanna flip for him?" 

"Nah. That won't work. I think Sam will be needing his own lawyer. They'll probably subpoena him too before this is over. Remember he was still here when Bartlet gave the take-down order." 

"Shit." 

"Yeah." 

"Well, there goes the big wedding Donna was planning." 

"Is that the excuse you're going to use?" Leo appeared at Josh's elbow, just in time to move Josh's fresh drink out of easy reach. 

"What are you talking about?" Josh walked around the older man and retrieved his drink. 

"I've been getting reports of screaming, yelling, and door slamming coming from your office. Normally I would just assume it's another of your normal work days, but I also heard about Donna crying in the hallways. I gather from multiple sources that you're about to screw up your life but good. Seems to me you're just looking for an excuse to call off the wedding." 

"I'm trying to protect Donna and this Administration. Get off my back! It's not like I was consulted before you and the President decided to order the hit." 

"Josh," Leo barked. "I don't want to hear you say those words again." 

Josh rolled his eyes and emptied his glass. "A rose by any other... what's the rest of that?" 

"Smells as sweet." Toby started his second Scotch and soda. 

Leo noticed and frowned. "And what are you doing? Why aren't you out there working the room?" 

"I'm trying to cheer Josh up," Toby mumbled, sipping his drink. "Instead I think he's convinced me that immediately confessing my guilt and going to a Federal pen might be the best way to stave off bankruptcy." 

"Okay. I can't deal with both of you. Feel free to wallow in your misery tonight all you want, but tomorrow I expect both of you back in top form." Leo slapped the top of the bar with his open hand. "And remember, both of you have too much to lose to simply roll over and play dead now." 

Josh grinned, already well on his way to being plastered. "You should stop and smell the roses, Leo." 

The Chief of Staff frowned and walked away. "Some of us don't have the time." 

Josh ordered another drink and mumbled. "They're throwing them at us, Leo. Just like they throw roses on caskets as they're lowered into the ground. We're going down. Might as well take a big whiff." 

Toby wrinkled his nose. "I hate roses." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Donna ducked into the Ladies Room outside the State Dining Room. The room was large, ornate, and usually the perfect island of calm in the midst of the crazy world of the White House. 

She needed a moment to compose herself before the formal dinner. She checked her makeup and sighed. She'd practically had to use a trowel to apply enough coverup, but the dark circles under her eyes and blotchy cheeks seemed to shine through. And despite a half bottle of Murine, her eyes still looked bloodshot. The effects of crying nonstop for three hours were hard to disguise. She pulled out a compact and dabbed at her face. 

"With your fair skin, you can't hide much." 

Donna jumped at the sound and whirled around to face CJ. "You scared me." Her voice was scratchy too. 

"Your dress isn't fully zipped either, which means you got dressed by yourself," CJ surmised, motioning for Donna to turn around so she could finish pulling up the zipper on the blue silk evening gown with the asymmetrical collar line. She recognized it as the dress that Donna had worn the night of the Inauguration. 

"What are you, Sherlock Holmes?" Donna said crossly, starting for the door. 

"No, just a friend who noticed that a certain senior staff member practically ripped his office door off its hinges when he slammed it at 4, where he remained until he emerged at 7 with a bow tie in need of expert attention. Finally after 20 minutes of loud bitching during which said staff member attempted to tie the thing, Charlie was asked for a clip-on." 

CJ checked her makeup in the mirror, observing that she needed more blush - and that she finally had Donna's attention. "Not that I've been keeping notes, but for the last 30 minutes said senior staffer has been sitting at the bar abusing his sensitive system." 

The Press Secretary turned and smoothed down the cream colored silk that kept trying to wrinkle along her hipline. She was going to need to get the dress altered a bit before she wore it again. If she wore it again, she considered, looking at the halter top and wondering if it made her chest look as flat as a twelve-year old boy's. She frowned. 

"What's your point, CJ?" Donna impatiently asked. She was getting tired of being Josh's official keeper. So what if he was tie-less and making himself sick by... 

"My point is that I don't think I need to be Cagney or Lacey, thank you very much, to know that something is very rotten in Camelot," CJ finished with a flourish. 

"Bravo," Donna snapped. She was also getting really tired of being cast as the weak-willed heroine from some children's story. "You got it first try. Camelot is about to collapse, there isn't enough room for Lancelot and his ego to exist with the rest of the mortal folks, and this fair maiden is...." Her voice caught and she gulped back a sob. "This fair maiden," she said when she regained voice, "doesn't know what to do to make it right because if she does what she knows will save Camelot, she'll lose Lancelot in the process, if she hasn't already lost him." 

Donna collapsed on one of the three green silk settees in the outer lounge area, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking as her body was racked with great, convulsive sobs. 

"Shh, shh. You know he's an idiot," CJ whispered, putting her arms around her friend's shoulders. "This can't be worse than when he got shot. If you could survive that..." 

"I don't know, CJ. I can't get through to him." She took a deep breath and looked in her tiny, beaded handbag for some kleenex. Finding none, she went into the other room and emerged blowing her nose on some White House toilet paper. 

Donna sat back down next to the Press Secretary. She dabbed her eyes gingerly and continued. 

"He's blaming himself for the Qumar mess, the Shareef assassination, maybe even the decision to introduce New Coke. He barely talks to me, hell we haven't had sex in two weeks and I don't think he's even noticed." 

CJ shot a doubting look at the blonde assistant. 

"I mean it. Nothing, nada, I can probably count the number of kisses we've had in the last ten days on one hand. He's not sleeping, judging from the shadows under his eyes, but he's insisted that I stay at my own apartment. I think he wants me to give him back the ring, but he doesn't have the guts to ask for it. I know him. His solution is to offer himself up to the Republicans as the administration's sacrificial lamb, but only after I'm safe in my native Canada." She blew her nose loudly, glanced in the mirror covering the opposite wall, and looked away in disgust. 

"You know what gripes my ass," Donna said firmly, sitting a little taller. "I don't want to be rescued like some princess in a tower. If anyone needs rescuing it's him...the stupid, idiotic, loyal, gentle fool," she ended with a sniff. She stared at the diamond glittering on her finger. 

"You're lucky you've got someone who wants to protect you," CJ said softly, leaning back on the sofa and glumly staring at her own reflection. The top of her dress was definitely too big. 

Donna looked up quickly. "Danny..." 

"Danny," CJ quickly interrupted, adjusting her bodice, "wants a baby. Tick tock, tick tock, his biological alarm clock sounds like Big Ben. If I can't give him a baby, he'll move on." 

"You don't believe that for a minute," Donna said indignantly. 

CJ didn't answer. 

"Do you?" the younger woman added quietly. 

CJ avoided Donna's prying eyes. "I don't know what I believe any more. The Administration may fall apart because of my boyfriend's investigations, Leo threatened to fire me, and the last conversation I had with Daniel Concannon, at 5:30 this morning, was a question about whether I wanted to consider sperm washing during my next cycle. I asked him if he preferred Tide or Cheer." 

Donna started to giggle until she noticed the tears snaking down CJ's face. 

"CJ, are you in here? Leo's..." Margaret barged into the Ladies Room but stopped short when she spied the two women, with tear-stained faces, crumpled toilet paper in their hands, seated on the settee. 

"I'll just tell him I haven't seen you," the redhaired assistant said quickly and left. 

"CJ, Danny loves you..." Donna began. 

"Love doesn't quite do the trick does it?" CJ said drily, shaking her head to clear it. She stood up and crossed the room, stooped slightly to look in the mirrors over the bank of sinks. A glance revealed black mascara streaks running down her cheeks. She wet a paper towel and gingerly began to dab away the evidence of her emotions. "Damn, I thought this mascara was waterproof." 

"I don't think any mascara can withstand the tears of true love," Margaret declared dramatically, re-entering the Ladies Room, carrying a stack of paper cups and two bottles of wine tucked under her arm. She placed the bottles on the window ledge, searched briefly through her tiny, black satin evening bag, and with a triumphant "got it," pulled out a cork screw. She opened the Cabernet Sauvignon with a pleasant pop and poured three cups, handing one to each of the women. "CJ, can you make a toast?" 

"Not before you hand me one of those," came the voice of the Presidential secretary, limping into the Ladies Lounge. "Damn shoes," she groaned as she plopped down on the settee next to Donna and removed the rhinestone encrusted purple sandal on her left foot. "I knew I should have worn my birkenstocks. No one would have seen them and when Will Bailey stomped on my foot during a waltz, I wouldn't have been left permanently disabled." 

CJ and Donna hid smiles as the woman in the low-cut magenta ball gown tossed both high-heels across the room and then unceremoniously adjusted an underwire bra that seemed to be causing her visible distress. 

Margaret grinned. She was wearing a bra she'd like to toss out with Debbie's shoes. Instead she limited herself to handing the older woman a cup of wine. 

With an arch of her eyebrow, Debbie conveyed the intended message and Margaret added more liquid sustenance to the paper cup. The older woman took an appreciative sip of the red nectar and sighed. "Okay. Now let's have that toast!" 

CJ glanced at Donna . "Here's to putting a sword in Guinevere's hand for a change." 

The ladies solemnly raised their cups and nodded, tossing back the wine in one swallow. 

Margaret poured the rest of the bottle. 

Debbie held up her cup. "Here's to not waiting for some man to give you what you need." 

The women murmured their agreement and emptied their cups. 

"Again," Margaret urged, opening the second bottle and giving them refills. "I want to make a toast too." 

Debbie and CJ laughed at the red-head's enthusiasm. 

"Go for it, Margaret," Donna urged, holding up her cup, trying to keep the wine from sloshing. 

"Here's to men with big feet and Secret Service badges." 

The women, with their arms raised, paused a beat and stared in surprise at the quirky assistant. 

"What?" Margaret asked, oblivious. 

Debbie chuckled. "I'll drink to that toast. But I'm going to want to hear a few more details about what's been happening in your life, dear." 

CJ and Donna joined in the laughter as Margaret blushed. 


	3. Foul Ball 3

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

"I can't feel my nose. Shouldn't I be able to feel it?" Toby asked, trying to touch his tongue to the tip of his nose. 

"I don't know." Josh frowned. "I just remembered why Donna doesn't let me drink Scotch." He looked down at his pants."I can't feel my..." 

"Losing a nose isn't so bad then," Toby agreed somberly, popping his tongue back in his mouth. 

The two men had been unceremoniously ejected from the dinner by Leo before the President or the Press could confront them. They'd made their way to the Hawk and Dove and were seated in a back booth, sipping brandy. 

"I had a fight with Donna today," Josh said sadly. "It was our first argument, maybe our last. She told me to go to Hell. I think I'm already there." 

"Andi and I used to fight all the time," Toby muttered darkly. "All it got me was another year older and a divorce." 

"Mandy and I always argued and Amy raised arguing to an art form. But with Donna, never. I think that tells you something, don't you?" Josh looked to his friend for guidance, but was met with a gentle snore. 

"Hey Lyman, move over." 

Josh looked up to find Danny Concannon standing next to the booth. He slid over and the Washington Post reporter sat down. 

"Donna's gonna give you hell for getting drunk." Danny plopped a half-filled beer mug next to Josh's snifter. 

"Donna's not talking to me," Josh mumbled. 

"I heard you made her cry." 

"From who? Whom? Who?" Josh looked down at his brandy and took another sip. 

"Did you?" 

"Did I what?" 

"Make Donna cry," Danny pushed. 

"I don't want to get married," Josh said suddenly. "That's going to make her cry even more." 

"You're an idiot. You want to marry her and for whatever crazy reason, she wants to marry you. So shut up or CJ's going to kick your ass so far and so fast, your head will spin trying to grab hold of your tail." Danny smacked Josh on the back of his head. "Consider that slap from her." 

"No, listen to me," Josh said, rubbing his head. "I'm in serious shit and I'm trying to figure out how to protect Donna from getting destroyed in these hearings. You know what they're going to say about her. I've got to make a deal which gets her off the hook. And she's not going to buy that if we're married. So you've got to help me get unengaged." He looked desperately at the redhaired reporter. 

"Listen man, that's the liquor talking. You've waited five years to finally get Donna and now you're going to give her up like that guy in Dickens story, what's his name, Sidney Package, Carton, whatever. You're not going to hang yourself to save Donna. There's got to be another way," Danny insisted, taking the snifter away from Josh. 

"I'd hang myself in a second," Josh waved his hand dramatically, "if it would save my Donnatella." His head banged on the table as the liquor took its effect. 

"Damn sensitive systems," Danny muttered, signaling to the bartender for help. "Hope Donna and Andi don't have big plans for the rest of the evening." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Debbie put the car into park and turned off the engine. She debated getting out or just going home. It was late and she'd had a long day, and even longer evening. The high heels she'd donned with her evening gown were killing her feet and the champagne she'd drunk on an almost empty stomach was giving her a headache. But for some reason, when the State Dinner was over, she'd turned her car towards Mac's house instead of her own. 

The lights were blazing so it appeared he was still up. He and his dog, she amended. Sometimes she felt like she was in a competition with that dog, a competition she usually felt like she was losing. 

Debbie sighed and opened the car door. No use sitting in the dark and obsessing about an Irish Wolfhound, better to find out what the dog's owner was thinking when he stood her up tonight. 

Mac didn't answer the doorbell, so she used her key for the first time. He'd given it to her earlier in the summer, just after they'd returned from Las Vegas. But she'd never had the occasion to use it before. 

Whiskey met her just inside the door, excited to see her or maybe just anxious to be let out. The dog disappeared out the open door and into the shrubs in the front yard before Debbie had a chance to grab her collar. 

"Mac?" she called out, stepping further into the small foyer. She left the door half-open, hopeful that Whiskey would return on her own and she wouldn't have to go searching for her in the pitch dark yard. 

"Mac?" she repeated, following the drone of the television. 

She found him in the den, stretched out on the sofa. From the number of empty beer cans and the open bottle of Scotch on the coffee table, she quickly realized he wasn't just asleep. 

"Wonderful," she grumbled to herself, tossing her purse and wrap on a chair and beginning to gather up the empty cans. "I really don't need this." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Three drunks in one evening," Danny mused, tightening his grip on CJ's waist and fitting the key in her townhouse lock. "This is a record for me." 

"I'm not drunk," CJ argued, closing her eyes and sliding downward as her knees buckled. 

Danny got the door open and then hoisted her over his shoulder. "Sure you're not." 

"I just didn't have dinner, or lunch. So technically I'm not drunk, I'm just hungry." She opened her eyes. "You have a nice ass, Fishboy." 

"Lots of people say that," Danny chuckled, walking inside, then swinging around and locking the door. 

"Stop twirling," CJ moaned. "One more spin and I'm going to throw up on the seat of your pants." 

"Sorry. Do you want me to put you down on the sofa or take you upstairs to bed?" 

"Bed," she answered. "But I need to turn right side up, like now." 

"Kay." He bent his knees and set her feet on the hardwood floor, hoping her legs would hold her for the few seconds it was going to take him to play Clark Gable and sweep her into his arms with her head on his shoulder. 

It was a good plan and should have worked, Danny thought as he stood looking down at her lying flat on her back between his legs on the highly polished floor. He just didn't account for her slick- soled shoes. 

CJ blinked up at him in surprise. "I thought you didn't like ice skating?" 

"Let's try that again," he suggested, leaning forward and holding out his hands for her to grab onto. 

The room rolled. Or maybe he did. 

Her ceiling could use painting, Danny thought trying to catch his breath. "Did you wax this floor recently?" he gasped, glad he'd missed the coffee table in his tumble. 

"Where are you?" CJ was still lying flat on her back. She reached her hand over her head and found the top of his head touching hers, his feet pointing towards the opposite wall. "What are you doing?" 

"Let's just take a few minutes and consider our options," Danny groaned. "If you can get on your hands and knees, we might make it to your bed without breaking any bones." 

"Fine." CJ moved to her side and got her knees under her. She crawled to his side. "Are you alright?" 

"I'm good." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah. Head on up the stairs and I'll be right behind you." Danny pasted a smile on his face to reassure her. 

"Okay." 

Danny gave her a few minutes head start just to be safe and then got to his feet. His back was never going to be the same. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Sugar, are you going to work all night?" Ainsley Hayes, counsel to the Speaker of the House, entered Will Bailey's office with a swish of her green taffeta evening gown. "I didn't even get a single dance with you this evening." 

"I'm sorry." Will pushed his glasses up and smiled at the sight of her. "You look incredible." 

"I do, don't I." She did a full circle, letting him see the back of her dress, or rather what little there was to the back of her dress above her hips. "I love this dress. It's very Antebellum, don't you think?" 

Will nodded, wondering how the dress was staying up. No back and very little front. Must be some kind of glue. A diamond choker encircled her neck. "Are those real?" He blushed, not intending to ask that question out loud. 

"Why Will-honey, you know they're real. You've spent lots of time-" 

Will turned beet red and interrupted her. "I meant the diamonds not your..." His eyes were drawn to her substantial cleavage, displayed to full advantage by the off-the-shoulder cut of her gown. 

"My breasts?" Ainsley asked, just to see how red his face could get. "Or I guess it would be more polite to refer to them as bosoms. Don't you think that's a strange word? Bosoms?" 

He scrambled to his feet and closed his office door. 

Ainsley frowned. "Should you have the door shut with those hearings coming up? People might think you're plotting with an evil Republican. Cutting a deal so to speak." 

Will quickly opened the door. 

"And after all, I'm not ashamed of my breasts. Don't you think they are the perfect size for-" 

Will shut the door again, sweat breaking out on his upper lip. 

"Sweet thing, I think maybe you need to come home with me. You're acting very strangely." 

"I just-" 

"Come home with me and I'll give you a nice warm bubble bath. I've got some of that chocolate cake you like too." She walked over and looped her arms around his neck. "Doesn't that sound good?" 

Will's hands moved of their own volition around her small waist, his fingers finding the stays that held up the bodice. His hands moved upwards. "Hey this is how- 

A knock at the door interrupted him. 

"Excuse me. Will?" Joe Quincy stood just inside the door. "Sorry to interrupt. Ginger said you were still here. Can we talk about your testimony?" 

Will nervously coughed. He'd been expecting a visit from Joe but... "Sure." 

Joe smiled at Ainsley. "I'm Joe Quincy, Associate Counsel." 

Ainsley grinned, leaving her arms around Will's neck. "Ainsley Hayes." 

"From the Speaker's staff?" Joe asked, surprise covering his face as he looked from Ainsley to Will and then pointedly to Will's green taffeta-filled hands. "We should probably talk soon." 

Will blushed, realizing what he was doing. He quickly dropped his hands to his sides. Trouble - it followed him around like a cat. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Danny? Are you awake?" She kissed his shoulder and slid one long leg over his thigh. 

His eyes popped open as her fingers trailed down his stomach. 

"I am now. What are you doing?" 

"Checking to see if you broke anything earlier. That was some somersault." 

"I didn't land on . . " He groaned as her fingers did their magic. "I didn't hurt anything but my pride and my dignity." 

"Good. Cause I've got plans. I talked to Leo about us today, about what we're considering." 

"What?" He caught her hand and pulled it away from him. He sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. "Say that again." 

CJ shielded her bloodshot eyes from the light. "Hey." 

"You told Leo about the baby?" 

"There isn't a baby yet," she groaned, pulling a pillow over her head. "And at this rate there won't be one." 

"Let me guess what Leo said," Danny angrily retorted. "He said no and threatened to fire you if you got pregnant." 

She nodded or rather the pillow moved. 

"Why did you ask him a question you knew the answer to? Are you looking for an excuse to change your mind again? I thought after Josh and Donna's engagement party, we'd agreed to try." 

CJ raised the pillow. "I'm not backing out - I'm just trying to save my job." 

Incensed, Danny grabbed a pillow and a blanket off the bed. "You're not the only one whose job is at risk. But I'm not about to let my boss tell me whether or not I can have a child with the woman I love." 

He stalked out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

She groaned and pulled the pillow back over her head. 


	4. Foul Ball 4

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

Debbie woke up as the mattress shifted behind her. "How's your head?" 

A wet lick behind her ear was her only answer. 

She grimaced and sat up. "I guess you want to go out again?" 

Whiskey whined in agreement. 

"Okay. Come on." Debbie stood and rolled up the sleeves of the old bathrobe of Mac's that she'd found in the closet. Tightening the belt, she left the bedroom and let the dog out the kitchen door into the small fenced backyard. 

By the time she'd found the coffee and started the coffee maker brewing, Whiskey was back at the door wanting to be let in. It was still dark outside. Whiskey didn't like being outside in the dark, Debbie had found out the night before when the dog had quickly returned from taking care of her business in the front yard. "You're just a big baby, aren't you? Are you afraid of the dark?" she whispered, patting the dog's head. 

"She's not afraid of the dark, she just doesn't like being alone. Like me," Mac answered, walking into the kitchen. His eyes were bloodshot, but otherwise he appeared none the worse for his drinking binge. "How long have you been here?" he asked, walking over and trying to give her a hug. 

She held him at arm's length. "Long enough. I got here about 1 am. You were already passed out on the sofa and Whiskey had her legs crossed." 

He shrugged, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "I'll apologize to her later. Do I owe you an apology too?" 

Debbie pushed against his chest and glared at him. "You mean for not showing up last night? Or for not calling? Or for both?" 

"Sorry." He gave her a half-smile and backed her against the kitchen counter. "Would you believe I didn't have time to get my tux pressed and Whiskey ate my cell phone." 

"Try again, I haven't been stood up since High School." She slapped at the hand he'd placed on her hip. 

Mac managed to get his mouth close enough for a quick kiss. "Okay - truthfully? I'm attempting to stay under the radar until this Qumar business is settled. I don't want to have to testify. Showing up at the White House would make it too easy for the process servers." 

"You don't think they know where you live? Why are you afraid to testify anyway?" 

Mac sighed and released his hold on her, walking over and pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I'm not afraid, Debbie. Testifying is no fun. You'll find that out soon enough." 

"You don't know anything about the Shareef assassination. Why are you worried?" 

He sipped at the hot brew, wondering why her coffee was so much better than his. His coffee-maker, his coffee, his water - but it tasted different when she made it. He'd have to watch the next time she- 

"Mac? Dammit, talk to me." She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. 

"Okay." He reluctantly set down his half-empty cup. "They'll question my relationship with you. They'll say it's just a cover so Bartlet can pass orders to the CIA through a backdoor. They'll look into my past - my past cases. It'll be a mess." 

She studied him a moment. "Will they really be able to bring up your CIA work? Specific cases?" 

"Some of it," Mac mumbled, getting a mug out of the cabinet for her and filling it. He put in some powdered creamer he'd bought just for her, just in case she came for dinner one night and stayed for breakfast. 

He pushed the mug over towards her and then topped off his own cup with more coffee. "They'll bring up enough to make my life hell. Enough to scare you off." 

Understanding finally dawned. She gingerly picked up the mug and warmed her hands around it. "Maybe you should just tell me what you're afraid of me finding out." 

Mac stared into the black liquid swirling in his cup. His past was just as dark. She wasn't going to like it and, unlike the coffee, he didn't have any way of lightening it up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

He'd been injured. It must have been a direct hit by an atomic bomb. How he had survived he didn't know. But the pain in his head told him that he must have been struck by some shrapnel, maybe even a tank. And his back was in a permanent spasm. Was he hit there too? He thought he heard the gentle voice of an angel. She was trying to tell him something, but the throbbing in his head drowned out her lilting tones. He struggled to hear. 

"Senior staff is in 25 minutes. Get your ass in gear and off the couch. Move it! NOW!" 

Josh groaned and put his arms over his head. 

"I'm counting to five. One, two..." 

The tones actually weren't lilting, he decided. Threatening, yeah, life threatening. He wanted to move, but that would require opening his eyes. Daylight would kill him, he knew it. 

"Four, Five." 

There was a moment of silence and then he screamed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Are you going into work today?" a hung-over Toby whispered, carefully setting a plate of toast and boiled eggs in front of his ex-wife. He'd passed on cooking bacon, fearing that the smell would have him hanging his head over the toilet again. 

"No. I was up most of the night with Molly. Now Huck is pulling at his ear. I'm going to have to take both of them in to see the pediatrician." Andi cut an egg in two and sprinkled salt on both halves. "You owe me 30 bucks for the cab by the way." 

"Sorry about that. Josh and I were talking about the hearings and lawyers' fees." Toby put another plate - this one just with toast - on the table along with coffee for both of them. "It's been years since I got that drunk." 

Andi frowned and chose to ignore his condition. "They want me to recuse myself from the House hearings. The Speaker phoned yesterday," she added, buttering a piece of darkly browned toast. 

"We expected that." Toby passed her the grape jelly, wondering briefly if his brains looked much the same. "You gave birth to my children and I'm a senior advisor to the President. It was bound to be an issue." 

"Your children? If they're your children, you take them to the doctor today and I'll go into work." She took a bite of toast, sighing as a blob of jelly landed on her robe creating yet another stain among those vying for prominence on the white cotton fabric. 

Toby grimaced. "Like you'd really trust me to do that." He handed her a napkin. 

Andi frowned again and grabbed the napkin. "Don't count on the fact that you took two babies for shots and only remembered to bring one back to get you out of all future doctor visits." She blotted at the jelly, noticing that the t-shirt she had on under the robe was inside out. 

"Yes, Ma'am." He tried to summon up a smile and failed. "How about I come home at lunch for a few hours and give you a chance to take a nap?" 

"Okay. But I intend to sleep. Don't get any ideas about sex." She pushed back several strands of long, tangled red hair that had escaped the rubber band holding the rest captive. 

"Never crossed my mind." Toby's eyes focused and he blanched at the dried formula on her shoulder. He brushed most of it off, hoping it was only formula. "Did you know you have on my socks?" 

Andi looked down at the gym socks bunched around her ankles.. "At least they're the same color. Yesterday I went all day with-" 

"I've got to go," Toby interrupted, as his cell phone and pager both started ringing and his head threatened to blow off. "I was supposed to be in a meeting with the Teamsters five minutes ago." He kissed her forehead and headed for the front door at a jog. 

"Have fun," Andi wistfully called after him. She looked at the remains of her breakfast and sighed. Maybe she could go back to bed for a few... 

Huck's cries ended that particular fantasy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

There wasn't enough hot water to warm him. The ice water thrown on his neck had certainly jolted him awake. But the leap from the couch had crippled him, he decided. He turned to let the steaming water unkink his back. He didn't see the hand snaking into the shower and reaching for the cold water tap. 

"I hate you," Josh mumbled a few moments later, seated at the kitchen table, with a towel over his head and one tied around his waist. 

"I'm not too fond of you either," Donna countered, setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. 

"How did I get here?" Josh asked, wrapping his hands around the mug and inhaling the aroma. 

"Courtesy of Daniel Concannon, and I took $40 out of your wallet to pay the cab driver." 

"It costs 40 bucks to go 10 blocks?" 

"$5 for the driver, and $35 for waking me up and cleaning up your puke," Donna explained, sipping her own morning caffeine. "I think you got a bargain." 

"Why was I sleeping on the couch?" Josh asked, finally facing her with bloodshot eyes. 

"No way were you getting in my bed," Donna said firmly. 

"Ever?" he said softly, reaching for her hand. 

"That depends," she said plainly. 

"I'm sorry I made you cry." 

"Don't be sorry for the tears. I want a promise that we're in this together, we solve it together, we take the lumps together. I'm not a fragile flower and if that's what you think I am, then you don't 'get' me at all," Donna insisted, starting to withdraw her hand. 

He held on firm and searched her face. "I don't want to see you hurt." 

"You - you hurt me worse. In the last two weeks, you've shut me out and made me feel like you didn't think I was smart enough or strong enough to handle what was coming. You don't do that to CJ." 

"I'm not in love with CJ. I don't want to marry CJ and have kids with her," Josh countered. "I want to protect you, save you from..." 

"I don't need saving," Donna said sharply. "I need you to talk to me about how *we* are going to get through this. What are our options? How can we protect what *we* share. Then *we'll* make a decision. It's the only way this, you and me, will work, Josh. I can't have you cutting some deal that will effectively end your career so no one will say nasty things about me." 

"You don't know how bad it can get. What will your parents say? They'll be furious that I exposed you to this," Josh worried. 

"Maybe. I'd like to think my family will understand, but if not, what's the alternative? Being safe but without you in my life? Can you give us up that easily?" Donna pushed. 

"God no, Donna. You ARE my life. But if you're a casualty in a messy political fight, I'll never forgive myself." Josh stood to pace. 

She glanced at her watch and sighed. "You've got to get to staff. We'll talk more later." 

She put the mugs into the sink and started to walk out of the kitchen. He grabbed her wrist. 

"Don't give up on me, Donna, please. I know I'm making a mess of things." 

She brushed a hand down his cheek. "I love you Joshua Lyman. Trust in us, believe in us. I'm not afraid." She kissed his cheek and left the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Mac debated ignoring the knock but figured she'd just use her key and let herself in. He put down his beer and struggled to his feet. 

Whiskey was already standing by the front door, whining. 

Once he opened the door, they stood for a moment staring at each other. 

"You going to invite me in?" Debbie finally asked, taking in his deteriorating appearance. 

He reluctantly stepped back and motioned for her to enter. 

Whiskey made chirupping noises to indicate her happiness, her tail moving back and forth rapidly. 

The Presidential Secretary scratched the dog's ears briefly before moving into the living room. 

"Seems like you started the party without me - again," she murmured, scanning the half dozen empty beer cans that littered the coffee table and floor. A half-filled bottle of Scotch sat on the coffee table next to a tumbler brimming with amber liquid. The room looked very much like it had before she'd cleaned up the night before. 

"Want a beer?" Mac asked, ignoring the reproachful look from his companion. 

"No thanks, I think one of us needs to have all our wits," Debbie answered. 

"You don't have to worry about my wits. I can still kill a man in under 30 seconds," Mac grumbled. 

"Had much opportunity to time that particular act recently?" Debbie sarcastically inquired, watching him sway a little as he walked away from her. 

Mac stretched out on the plaid couch of some indeterminate brown color, resting his head on one of the pillows and covering his eyes with his right arm. 

Seeing no room on the sofa, Debbie gingerly moved the empty beer cans to the side of the coffee table and sat down opposite the ex-CIA agent cum cab driver. 

"I'm sorry I had to leave this morning before we could talk," Debbie began tentatively. "The President had me paged." 

Mac waved her off. "Doesn't matter." 

"Yes, it does, Mackenzie Sullivan. Stop the strong silent type shit and tell me what the hell is going on." 

"Nothing. Just trying to lay low. I told you. I don't want to testify before any damn Congressional committee," he growled and Whiskey's ears perked up. 

"And I don't believe you," Debbie announced flatly. "I think something's going on in that head of yours that's driving you crazy. Trust me. You're going to tell me sooner or later. So tell me now - let's save ourselves and your liver a lot of wear and tear." 

"Lady, there are things going on in my head that I don't ever want to say out loud. It was bad enough to live them," Mac snapped. 

Debbie reached out to touch his arm, but Mac flinched and she quickly withdrew her hand. 

"Let me help. Please Mac, let me help." Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

He took his arm away from his eyes, sat up, and reached for the tumbler of Scotch. He threw back the contents and put his hand on the bottle to refill his glass. 

She stayed his hand and pleaded. "Mac, I don't care what it is. You took me on, warts and all. At this stage of our lives, we both have plenty we'd like to forget." 

"If only I could forget," Mac muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and absently noticing that he'd forgotten to shave. 

She tapped his jean-clad knee, redirecting his attention. "What is it? Tell me. Why are you drinking like this? What have these damn hearings stirred up?" 

"The hearings in 1976." 

"76?" Debbie looked at him puzzled. 

"Following the fall of Saigon." 

She nodded, trying to follow where he was going, or actually where he'd been that was triggering this flashback. 

"We lost three of our best guys that Spring. The streets of Saigon were running red with the blood of innocents," he murmured. 

"Did you...did you know those agents?" 

"Yeah," he murmured. "I'd been stationed there 18 months earlier. They were good guys, trying to feed intelligence back to political hacks who were sitting on their fat asses back in DC and didn't want to hear it." 

"And the hearings..." 

"Another bloodbath. Someone had to take the blame for all the casualties. Spooks were as good a target as any, easier than most," he sighed. 

"And these hearings remind you of those days?" Debbie pushed. 

"No...yes...no. These hearings remind me of what I lost back then, who I was." He paused and suddenly sober, faced Debbie directly. 

"Okay," Debbie said tentatively, not sure she was ready for what he was about to say. "Who were you?" 

Mac looked down at his hands. They were large, strong, firm. He really could kill a man with his hands in under 30 seconds. It had been a long time since he'd had to do that, but he knew that it was a skill you never lose. 

He looked back up and scanned the open, trusting face of Debbie Fiderer. He took a breath and began. 


	5. Foul Ball 5

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

Coffee cups littered the table and there was a nervous tension in the room. Leo had called a meeting of the senior staff, as well as Donna, Margaret, and Debbie, for 10 a.m. in the Roosevelt Room. Joe Quincy was to outline the strategy for the upcoming hearings and wanted to address all those who had already been subpoenaed. But the Chief of Staff was stuck on a call with the senior senator from California and had sent word that he'd be a few minutes late. 

"Has anything new happened?" CJ asked as she slid into a seat next to Donna. 

"Thanks to Danny, Josh showed up at my apartment at 2:00 a.m.," Donna whispered. Josh was in the corner of the room conferring with Joe Quincy. "He was stinking drunk and passed out on my couch." Donna stopped as she got a good look at CJ, who had a decidedly green cast to her complexion. 

"Seems like Josh wasn't the only one who was stinking drunk. What did you do after I left the Ladies Lounge?" Donna pushed. 

"Helped Margaret celebrate? Drowned my sorrows? Take your pick, just do it quietly, please," CJ murmured. 

"Ok, folks, listen up." Leo entered the room and all eyes focused on the head of the table. "I just got word from Colby on Foreign Affairs that he's scheduled a meeting with Jameson to iron out the details and parameters of the hearings. Joe, what have you got?" 

Joe walked over to Leo's side, as Josh slid into the seat next to Donna. He leaned in to whisper, "Joe wants to meet with us right after this. OK?" 

Donna nodded and flashed him a small smile. 

"I've met with each of you and outlined what I anticipate will be the basic focus of your testimony," the assistant counsel began. "The hearings are scheduled to start a week from Thursday and I anticipate they'll last no more than three days." 

"Assuming that all the congressional posturing and preening can be kept to a minimum," Toby intoned. "Which means we should expect something more like three weeks." 

"It will take more than three days for the committee members to finish their opening statements," CJ protested. 

"I think we've gotten agreement that the hearings will be closed. So without C-Span cameras, I'm hopeful that the members of Congress will stay focused. I've also spoken to Jackson who has agreed to call Jefferson Tribe, a constitutional law professor at Yale, as an expert witness on Executive privilege and power in foreign affairs. We're also bringing in Daniel Ellison of Stanford who's an expert on the first amendment. Several reporters, including Danny Concannon, of course, have been subpoenaed, but they're expected to refuse to testify and it's unlikely that the Committee will press the point. I'm trying to limit the scope of the hearing as much as possible. The truth is I don't think this Administration has broken any laws. We're fighting a perception battle, not a legal one." 

"You've suggested that we each need to hire personal attorneys since your responsibility is to the Office of the President. Is there any reimbursement for this expense?" Margaret asked. 

The room's occupants glanced at Leo's assistant, a woman whose quirky reputation was keeping anyone from asking about the dark sunglasses she was sporting in the none too brightly lit conference room. 

"Afraid not. And as long as we're talking about perception, as much as Leo or the President might want to help you out financially, they can't. It would look like they're buying your testimony. On the other hand, I can recommend several lawyers in DC who have volunteered to represent the senior staff pro bono," Joe explained. 

"Just the senior staff? What about the rest of us?" Debbie frowned at the young lawyer. "Some of the other support staff are expecting subpoenas, what about them? The young staffers certainly can't afford to pay $400 an hour to an attorney, not when they're making little more than minimum wage. They shouldn't have to mortgage their future for this." 

Leo raised his hand as a few angry murmurs started. "The rest of you shouldn't have to worry too much about your testimony. It should be brief and just cover what you knew about the Qumar situation. You should be in and out quickly. But regardless, the DNC is going to help any of the staff who can't afford their own lawyer. They've got lawyers prepped who can walk you through your hearing appearance. Joe will have that information by the end of the day." 

The room quieted as they each contemplated how they were going to get their regular work done and spend hours testifying or waiting to testify. 

"Any other questions?" Leo could feel the tension in the room. It wasn't the same situation as the impeachment hearings. Bartlet's decision to assassinate Shareef wasn't a popular decision, there had already been more resignations than he'd expected. He just hoped the Administration wouldn't lose any more key people. 

When no one spoke up, Leo nodded and walked out of the room. 

Joe cleared his throat. "I'll be meeting again with each of you during the next few days and I'll be happy to meet with your attorneys too, just set up a time with my secretary. The next few weeks will be stressful for all of us, but we'll get though it. Thanks for your time and attention today." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

After a few more logistical questions, the meeting broke up. Joe Quincy walked with Josh and Donna back to the DCOS office. 

"I have a question," Donna asked as soon as they were all seated. 

Joe nodded. 

"Would it change things if Josh and I were already married?" 

Josh looked stunned. "What are you suggesting?" he asked. 

"Look, I have nothing to hide, but would it give our case more credibility if we were married. Our engagement is no secret so it's not like anyone thinks we married just for this. We could say this was always our plan." 

"What about the dream wedding you've always wanted?" Josh interrupted. 

"I got the dream husband, who needs the rest?" Donna said simply. 

"I don't know. It could look fishy like you had something to hide," Joe said thoughtfully. "Or that you were pregnant?" he said quietly, looking directly at Donna. 

The blonde assistant blushed. "No, I'm not and I have nothing to hide. I'm just trying to avoid being forced to testify against Josh. If it turns into a fishing expedition, who knows what they'll ask or how it will be interpreted." 

"And I'm looking for a way to keep Donna out of this completely. Is there anything I can offer that would get the Republicans to agree not to call her?" Josh demanded. 

"Fraid not," Joe said flatly. "Our best hope is to find Republicans with integrity to agree to limit the focus of this inquiry. If that happens, then I think all testimony will be pro forma. I'm working with Matt Skinner to identify Administration friends from the other side of the aisle." 

Josh and Donna exchanged glances. 

"Look, I've got a meeting on the Hill in 20 minutes," Joe said, rising from his chair. 

"We'll talk tomorrow," Josh said thoughtfully, as the deputy counsel left the office. 

"I'm going to call him," Donna said firmly. 

"Set up a meeting for the three of us," Josh answered. "For tonight." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"CJ, what can you tell us about the Administration's secret strategy for the hearings?" The reporter from the New York Times jockeyed for position in the crowded hallway. 

CJ frowned. "Well, I could tell you our strategy but then it wouldn't be a secret anymore." 

"So you admit there's a secret strategy?" Danny called out the question, causing the rest of the reporters who'd been there since Bartlet's first term to burst into laughter. 

CJ smiled and tried to push past the dozen or so correspondents laying in wait for her. "No comment." 

Katie waved her notepad in the air. "Seriously, CJ. What's the plan for next week? Are you going to testify?" 

The Press Secretary nodded. "I got my invitation to the ball yesterday. When I have my outfit picked out, I'll let you know. Any other questions will have to wait until the 5 pm briefing." 

CJ briskly made her way around the last human obstacle and rounded the corner into the bullpen. 

Seeing her aide approaching from the other direction, CJ waited by the coffee pot, fixing herself a cup of the stale brew and bemoaning the fact that the nearest Starbucks was too far away to slip off for a quick fix. 

"Sorry about the crowd in the hall. They're moving back into the Press Room now." Carol took the filled cup from CJ before she could take a sip. "I'll make some fresh. This has been here hours." 

"Thanks. See if you can get Danny to my office without creating a riot, will you?" 

Carol nodded. "Anything else?" 

CJ sighed. "If an intern happens to go out - I'll pay a $20 bounty for a mocha cappuccino." 

"I'll put out the word." Carol laughed. "I'm sure someone will want the extra cash." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Hi." Margaret paused in her typing to greet the somber Secret Service Agent who had appeared in front of her desk. 

"Hello. I need to see Leo when he has a minute," Ron Butterfield responded. 

"He's in a meeting with Oliver Babish. If it's urgent I can-" 

"No. I just want to discuss security for next week. Can you page me when he's free?" 

"Sure." She nodded in case her answer wasn't clear. 

Ron turned to leave then stopped. "Can I ask you something?" 

She nodded again. 

"Isn't it hard to type with those sunglasses on?" 

"Only if I try to look at the screen." 

"Right." Ron almost smiled. "Do you want to have dinner tonight?" 

Her face was expressionless. "With you?" 

This time he couldn't keep back a smile. "Yes, with me." 

"Okay." The phone rang and she reached for it. 

He turned to leave. 

"Ron?" 

"Yeah?" 

She held up her hand indicating he should wait. She answered the call and then redirected it to Debbie's office. 

Hanging up the receiver, she asked, "What size shoes do you wear?" 

He stared at her. When no further explanation seemed to be forthcoming, he answered, "12 D. Why?" 

Margaret smiled. "Just wondered. Come to my apartment tonight. I'll cook." 

Ron narrowed his eyes and nodded. He walked away feeling the confusion he was learning to expect after conversations with the tall redhead. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"You wanted to see me?" Danny leaned against her office doorframe. 

CJ glanced up. She gave him a small smile, testing the water. "You were already gone this morning when I got up." 

"I had a thing to do," he answered, crossing his arms. 

"Thanks for the help out there earlier." 

He shrugged. "I'm a nice guy." 

"I know." 

"Do you?" 

"Yeah. Can we talk?" 

"Depends." 

"On?" 

"If we can be honest with each other about what we're feeling." 

She nodded and motioned him inside. 

He shut the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Toby rushed through the door. "Sorry I'm late. Leo called a meeting to discuss the..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the sleeping figures in the living room. Both babies were in their carriers on the carpet, peacefully sucking on pacifiers and dreaming of whatever babies dream about. Andi was slumped over on the sofa, her purse and a small white prescription bag clutched in her arms. 

Toby paused a moment to take in the sight. He'd never really imagined that he'd ever be part of such a scene. "His family," he mused, a smile forming on his lips. 

Tossing down his briefcase on an overstuffed armchair that was the only furniture from his apartment that Andi had allowed in the new house, Toby stripped off his jacket and tie, hanging them over the back of the chair. His plan was to get the babies into their cribs and then see about moving Andi to hers. Maybe if the babies stayed asleep, he'd see if Andi was interested in him crawling into bed with her. 

Toby smiled at the thought. It had been so long since they'd made love, he wasn't sure he'd remember how to do it. But he assumed it was like riding a bicycle, it would come back to him. Just as Toby reached for Huck's carrier, his son stirred. 

Huck opened his eyes and spit out the pacifier. His eyes searched the room and landed on his father's smiling face. The baby grinned. 

Toby recognized that grin. Sighing, he redirected his thoughts from sex towards just getting Huck into the babies' room and his diaper changed before he woke up the household. 

Gently lifting the aromatic baby into his arms, Toby quickly walked upstairs. "You and I need to talk about why it is that whenever I even think about getting between the sheets with your mother you go off like a dime-store alarm clock. What are you angling for? Money? A car? What?" 

The baby gurgled his answer and drooled on his father's favorite dress shirt. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"I wanted to talk about the subpoenas," CJ said, sitting down next to Danny on her office sofa. 

Danny leaned close and kissed her cheek. "You don't want to talk about the baby?" 

She frowned. "Not here. And there's not going to be a baby if you keep sleeping on the couch." 

Danny shrugged. "I had a headache." 

When she didn't respond, he added, "What did you want to know about the subpoena?" 

"You got one?" 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't think it worth mentioning to me?" 

He shrugged again. "It's no big deal. I'm going to refuse to disclose my sources, they're going to threaten to hold me in contempt, and then the lawyers will do their dance. I doubt I'll see the inside of a jail cell." 

"What happens when they ask about our personal relationship? I don't think our sleeping together is covered under 'freedom of the press'. Your newspaper's attorney might have a little problem shielding you from answering those questions." 

"You think?" Danny grinned. "I'll just tell them the truth. I spend very few nights actually sleeping with you, even less having-" 

"Danny! Be serious. This could be a major problem for us. I know they're going to ask me about you. About how you got your information concerning the plane and the pilot - hell, even the cricket player." 

"It wasn't from you, that's for sure," Danny retorted, getting to his feet. "I got zip, nada, nothing from you on anything having to do with Shareef." 

"They won't believe that. Even Leo probably doesn't believe that." 

Danny stuck his hands in his pockets. "What do you want me to do?" 

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and rested her aching head in her hands. "I don't know. Help me figure out a solution - something." 

He stared at the top of her head for a few seconds, then hesitantly responded, "There's just one thing I can think of - one thing that will muddy the waters for the Committee." 

She reluctantly raised her head, his tone making her nervous. "What?" 

"We could get married." He waited, searching her eyes for clues as to what she was thinking. 

CJ sighed and leaned back against the sofa cushions, crossing her arms. "When?" 

"Is that a yes?" He wasn't sure if he was happy with her reaction or not. 

She pursed her lips. "If you're serious, then that's a yes. It would probably be advantageous to both of us under the circumstances." 

He still wasn't sure she was serious. "You'll marry me?" 

"You want me to sign something?" Her voice betrayed her amusement. 

He grinned. "Eventually." 

She got to her feet and approached him. "You know I can't promise a baby? Nothing has happened so far on that front and might not." 

He put his arms around her and tugged her close. "I haven't put my best efforts into it yet. Don't worry, the Concannons are known far and wide for baby-making." 

"Are you still going to want to be married to me if I can't give you a little Concannon?" 

He hugged her, whispering, "I want to be married to you more than anything in the world, even more than I want a baby." 

She pushed back from him so she could read his face. Her hands resting on his chest, she tentatively asked, "Really?" 

"You want me to sign something?" His words were playful, but his expression was serious. 

A knock on her door had them springing apart. 

"CJ?" Carol stuck her head around the door. "Good news, your cappuccino is here." 

CJ smiled. "This might turn out to be a good day after all." 

Danny grinned and circled around Carol. "I'll leave you to your caffeine fix. I have some strings to pull - you know for that knot thing." 

CJ took a sip of her coffee and ignored Carol's questioning look. 


	6. Foul Ball 6

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

Donna's heels clicked loudly against the marble floors as she walked swiftly through the halls of the Longworth House Office Building. The rubber soles of Josh's black wingtips made scarcely a sound. It was 9:00 pm and the offices were, for the most part, empty. They'd deliberately chosen such a late hour for the meeting. Less people present to explain why these three were in conference. 

They came to the massive oak door, looked at each other, drew deep breaths, then Josh knocked firmly. 

"Yeah," came a voice from inside. 

They pushed open the door and walked into a large, wood-panelled office. 

"Donna," said the man sitting behind the huge cherry desk. He smiled warmly. 

"Cliff." Donna gave an uneasy smile. 

Turning to the Deputy Chief of Staff, he nodded. "Lyman." 

"Calley," Josh answered, nodding his head in acknowledgment. 

"Sit down please." Cliff Calley, Majority Counsel of the House Government Oversight Committee, waved to the seats opposite him. Josh and Donna crossed the room, the Persian carpet muffling their footsteps. 

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Calley waited, knowing that Josh was the one coming to ask the favor. His silence reflected a power play, and Josh knew it. Ordinarily he was a master at these games, but this evening Josh wasn't playing for himself. He swallowed his pride and began. 

"What do I have to do to stop the committee from calling Donna as a witness?" Josh was blunt. He didn't have to explain what hearings he was talking about. Calley had understood when his secretary told him that Donna Moss was calling to set up an appointment for that night. He'd been surprised to see Donna at the meeting with Josh, but waited to see how it all played out. 

"Josh," Donna interrupted, but stopped when she saw Josh put out his hand to stay her objections. 

"Donna," Cliff began, turning to face her, "I wish there were something I could do to help, but I can't." 

"Can't or won't?" Josh said quietly. "I'm not asking for myself, but Donna deserves better." 

"I know she does," Cliff said regretfully. 

"Stop talking about me as if I weren't here," Donna snapped, then lowered her voice. "I'm not worried about being called as a witness, but come on, Cliff, you know this is a fishing expedition. I didn't know anything about the Shareef assassination before it broke in the newspapers. I'm not the leak. This is just to embarrass the Administration." 

"Not exactly," Cliff said slowly, turning back to Josh. "You and Leo McGarry have made a lot of enemies on the Right. Lillienfeld and his minions have a plan here." 

"They want to take us both out?" Josh asked, his eyes narrowing, the wheels in his mind racing to the obvious conclusion. 

"Yes. They see this as an opportunity to cripple the Bartlet Administration, as well as future Democratic administrations," Cliff advised, nodding at Josh for him to fill in the blanks. 

Donna was confused. "What do you mean future?" 

"What are your fiancé's plans after President Bartlet's term is over?" the Republican asked directly. 

"Oh," Donna murmured. "A preemptive strike." 

"Right," Cliff agreed. 

"But this isn't what you do," Donna insisted, looking directly in Cliff's eyes. "You wouldn't permit it for Leo. You can stop this, Cliff. You've got to," she pleaded. 

Josh leaned over and took Donna's hand in his. "He can't," Josh said softly. 

Donna whirled to face her fiancé. "Why not?" she demanded. 

Josh looked at Cliff, and with a small smile hovering at the corner of his lips, asked, "So the rumors are true about New York's 15th?" 

"I think so. Matthews is retiring at the end of this term..." He shrugged. "I made some enemies when I intervened for Leo. I can't afford... and I don't think it would do any good, anyhow," he added. "This is bigger and would require someone from the Speaker's Office stepping in - and that's not gonna happen." 

"OK, then. Thanks for seeing us." Josh rose, and Donna followed suit. She looked at Cliff, disappointment lining her face. 

"I'm really sorry, Donna," the Republican offered. 

Donna nodded silently and followed Josh out into the hall. 

"We'll head back to the office," she began, walking dispiritedly down the marble hallway. 

Josh caught up with her and grabbed her hand. "Nope. I have other plans." 

She looked in amazement. The Deputy Chief of Staff looked better than he had in two weeks. He exuded a sense of peace and confidence. 

"Were you just in the same meeting I was in?" Donna asked. 

"Yep," he answered with a smile. 

"And did we not just get our asses kicked?" she demanded. 

"Well I do have the cutest butt in DC," he offered. 

"Soooo?" 

"Donna, here's what we're gonna do. First we're going to Maggiano's and have a fabulous Italian dinner, because I'm really hungry. Then we're heading back to my apartment where I plan to make love to my beautiful fiancee. I guarantee you will sleep well tonight," he smirked. "Tomorrow morning, *we* will go into the office and *we'll* figure out what we're going to do. But tonight, it's you and me, baby," he laughed. 

"Not that I'm complaining, but explain this mood, please? Because I just don't get it." She stared at him as though he'd grown an extra head. 

"It's just you and me, Donnatella. Looking out for each other." He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. "I know what we're up against now - exactly." 

"So you have a plan?" Her voice was hopeful. 

He shrugged, then grinned. "Not exactly. But I like not having to depend on some Republican to save my butt." 

"Our butts," she proclaimed, raising her chin at him. 

"Our butts." He smiled, counting on his dimple to cajole her into sharing his good mood. 

She paused for a moment and then grinned, the biggest smile she'd had in weeks. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"It might be a little well done," Margaret commented, setting a filled plate in front of the President's Chief of Security. "Leo called and I had to walk him through tomorrow's schedule. He misplaced the printout I left for him. Anyway...," she set a similar plate in front of her chair, 

"... the steaks might be a little well done." 

"It's steak?" Ron quickly smiled to indicate he was joking. He wasn't joking, but he hadn't intended to ask his question out loud. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, her expression deadpan. "I'm usually a very competent cook, but there are only so many things I can do at the same time. The Chief of Staff's meeting with the Chinese Ambassador tomorrow was more important than turning the steaks. I have to prioritize my time very carefully, you know. Lists are very helpful. Do you like lists?" 

He nodded and tried to cut his way through the leathery beef, silently reflecting that cooking the meal herself was her idea not his. 

"Well-done meat is safer anyway. Were you aware that several cases of mad-cow disease have been diagnosed in the United States?" Margaret watched him put a small piece in his mouth. 

Ron nodded and looked like he wanted to comment on her statement, but he was still busy chewing. 

Margaret smiled. "You're probably thinking that those cases were from people who'd just come back from Europe and so we really don't have to worry about it here yet." 

Ron nodded again, still chewing the same bite and hoping to be able to swallow soon, although it seemed to him that his dinner companion was just as happy carrying on the conversation by herself. 

"The problem is that we don't know if all the cases have been reported. There could be people all over the country sick with it and being mis-diagnosed. I think that's what's happening with West Nile Virus, only in reverse." 

Ron chewed and vowed to become a vegetarian. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"I met a woman...a woman named Anh, in the spring of 1973. I was stationed in Saigon and she worked in her family's restaurant. I used to go there for lunch everyday. I'd tease her and she'd laugh," Mac started softly, his eyes focused on a place thousands of miles away. "I liked the noodles they sold there, haven't tasted anything like them since. Some kind of fish broth." 

He pulled at his watch band, watching it snap back into place. 

"Mac?" Debbie moved over to sit beside him on the sofa. "Tell me about Anh." 

"She was young, 18 or 19 at the most. Hell, I was young too. It was a crazy time." He reached for his glass of Scotch. 

This time Debbie didn't stop him. "Go on." 

Mac took a swallow, feeling the burn all the way to his gut. He needed to eat something or he'd be in real pain by morning. He set down the glass and cleared his throat. 

"Her father hated me, hated all Americans. He used to make sure that one of his sisters waited on my table. Didn't stop me. I figured out when he'd be out of the restaurant at the market, and then later, Anh would meet me at my hotel. We were together for a couple of months." 

He paused and looked at Debbie, then down at the floor. "You know what happened," he said quietly. 

"She got pregnant," Debbie said flatly. 

"Yeah," he blew out a breath. "Anh came to my hotel to tell me. She was scared, but excited about having a baby. Told me that she couldn't tell her father about the baby if we weren't married." Mac reached for his glass again and emptied it. 

Debbie waited, knowing that what was coming next wasn't good. 

"I asked her 'who ever said anything about marriage'? I'll never forget the look on her face. She was like a wounded animal. She ran out of the hotel. I followed her and tried to get her to listen to reason. Told her that the baby was a mistake and that I'd help her get...get rid of it. She refused. I...I asked her how she could be sure that it was my baby. She spat in my face and told me to go to hell. She ran down the street and I let her go. I was young and stupid and I was relieved that I didn't have to be a father, a husband," Mac stumbled over the words, his face lined with grief. 

Debbie grabbed his hand and held on. 

"I was shipped out a few weeks later. I tried to forget about the baby. I'd heard through the grapevine that she had married the son of one of her father's business partners. I figured it worked out best for everybody. Told myself that the baby would be better off with a family instead of a rogue agent like me. 

Then in April 1975, I got a message from Anh. Saigon was falling and she wanted to be sure that Lily, our daughter, was safe. I discovered that Anh's father and husband were Viet Cong. Hell, turns out Anh was too, at least that's what some of the other guys in the Agency told me. Maybe she was just using me. I don't know anymore, my memories of that time are all disjointed now, just fragments of nightmares that invade my sleep." He rubbed a hand across his face. 

"The bottom line was Anh was going to be fine, but the child wasn't. She begged me to bring the baby to America." 

He took a deep breath. "I'd seen what happened to mixed race children over there. And I'd grown up some in the time since Anh had first told me about her pregnancy. Anyway, I agreed. I was in Korea at the time, but working back channels, I made arrangements for Lily to be on one of the transports that were bringing children to the States." 

Mac closed his eyes, trying to shut out the images his words had evoked. 

"What happened to your daughter, Mac?" Debbie breathed, terrified to hear the answer. 

"Lily was on the C-5A plane that crashed on takeoff," he whispered, tears running down his cheeks. "I heard Anh died of typhoid the following year." 

Debbie sighed. She remembered the news coverage of the "baby-lift" and the tragic plane crash. 

Mac opened his eyes and looked into hers. "You asked me once if I'd ever deserted a child. I lied to you, just like I lied to myself all those years. I sent Lily to her death. If I'd been a man, a real man, I'd have taken care of my child. I can kill an enemy with my bare hands, but I couldn't - didn't - protect my daughter." 

Debbie opened her arms to him. 

Mac moved into her embrace, thirty-year-old tears flowing down his craggy face and wetting her blouse. 

She held him close and rubbed his back. Then crooning words of comfort, she locked her arms around him and tried to soak up his pain as well as his tears. 

Whiskey snuggled up, pushing her nose between the two, and offering with her touch, unquestioning love and loyalty. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Hey, you're late. I thought maybe you changed your mind." Danny ceased his pacing in front of the judge's chambers' door and walked down the nearly deserted hall to meet her. 

CJ rushed down the hall, her arms full of bags and a small overnight case. 

Danny caught a suit bag just as it slipped from her fingers. "What's all this?" 

She looked at him in surprise. "I'm not getting married in what I'm wearing! I had to get Daphne to open up her boutique and help me pick something out. Then I had to run by my townhouse and find some shoes. Then I remembered that we'd need flowers." 

She caught her breath and got a good look at him. "What are you wearing for the ceremony?" 

Grinning, he glanced down at his normal gray suit and then back up at her. "I thought this outfit was stunning on me. Does it make me look fat or something?" 

"Danny!" 

"I didn't have time to shop for something new," he explained. "It wasn't easy to talk Judge Wilkins into staying after work to perform the ceremony. Lucky for us, traffic court is running late too. Then there was all the paperwork and the waivers I had to get. By the way, you'll need to get a blood test sometime this week. I got mine this afternoon and it really hurt. Want to see my band-aid?" 

CJ ignored his question and continued to evaluate his clothes. She frowned. "You're wearing a black shirt." 

"It goes with the tie?" he offered, sucking in his stomach a little under her scrutiny. 

"You're wearing black to our wedding?" 

Danny's eyes met hers. "Are you getting cold feet? Cause I really don't think you care that much about the color of my shirt." 

"I'm fine. I'm just not sure you're taking this seriously." She almost dropped another bag - this one containing a bouquet of peach roses. 

He grabbed the plastic bag and sighed. "Come sit with me a minute. There's a bench over here that I've become great friends with." 

"We don't have time-" 

"We better make time." Danny took her arm and led her over to a wooden bench beneath a barred window. "Did I mention that Concannons don't get divorced?" 

CJ collapsed on the hard bench, setting her wedding paraphernalia on the space beside her. "I don't know what you want from me. I said yes, didn't I?" 

Danny crouched down in front of her, his eyes serious. "You didn't say anything about loving me." 

She blinked away a few tears that had unexpectedly clouded her vision. "I thought that was understood." 

He smiled and reached up and brushed a tear off her cheek. "I'm insecure. I need the words." 

She chewed on her bottom lip and considered what he was asking for and why. "Remember when you gave me Gail?" 

"Yeah." He sank to one knee as his calves threatened to cramp on him. 

"I fell a little bit in love with you that day." 

"That sounds promising. I could use a little more though." 

She grinned. "When you kissed me that first time - before the State of the Union - I knew you were going to change my life." 

He smiled and shifted on the hard concrete floor. "Keep going." 

"I missed you terribly while you were in Europe." 

"And?" 

She reached out a hand and caressed his bearded cheek. "And I never want to have to spend another day without you." 

He blinked back a few tears of his own. "So you're not just marrying me because of the hearings or to have a baby?" 

She smiled at him, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "No. But those things certainly tip the scales in-" 

He kissed her before she could finish, thinking he should learn to quit when he's ahead. 


	7. Foul Ball 7

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

"Sugar, are you still hungry? There's more food on the stove. I made enough grits for five people and you hardly touched yours." 

Will didn't answer, hoping he wouldn't be forced to confess just how much he hated grits. Instead, he continued to watch the diminutive blonde towel the moisture from her freshly showered body and begin smoothing lilac-scented lotion over her bare legs. 

He supposed he should really be taking a shower and preparing for work himself, but watching Ainsley put on and take off clothes was something he wasn't missing for any reason. "I could do that for you," he croaked, holding his breath as she rubbed lotion onto her knees and thighs. 

"Why don't you just sit back and relax. I have to meet with my boss in just over an hour. He's been asking for my opinion more and more lately. I love working in the Speaker's office, even if we have to frequently butt heads with my old colleagues in the White House." She smiled sweetly. "And don't you have a second meeting with Joe Quincy this morning? I know you're worried about your testimony." 

She pulled on her lace underwear and Will had to look away. He always found it nearly impossible to think clearly around a half-dressed Ainsley. But when she was clothed, she pushed and challenged him intellectually more than anyone he'd ever met. Toby and he might argue over grammar or style. He might even disagree with Josh about methods of enacting the Democratic agenda. But with Ainsley, their disagreements were more basic, more fundamental. They frequently disagreed on the role of the Federal government, the need for the ERA, gun control, funding of education, etc. Ainsley was a conservative Republican, no question about it. She could hold forth on welfare reform for hours. Yet for all their differences, Will had never debated anyone more intellectually honest than Ainsley Hayes. And even considering the harsh realities of politics and its demands for compromise, he had met no one, including Josiah Bartlet, with more personal integrity. "Besides," he thought, stealing another look at her legs, "she was hot." 

"Sugar, you want to talk about your testimony? I understand if you feel it's a conflict of interest, discussing it with me, but I'm here for you." The blonde lawyer made her offer while buttoning her long sleeved, sky blue blouse and tucking it into her pencil slim navy skirt. 

"It's pretty simple," Will began, getting out of bed and searching the floor for his boxers. "I didn't know anything about the decision to assassinate Shareef. The President told the senior staff about it the morning before Zoey was kidnapped. And I didn't leak anything to anybody, not that any of that truth will make one whit of difference," he concluded, spying his underwear peeking out from under a large fern in the corner of the room. 

"The truth always makes a difference," Ainsley answered, zipping up her skirt and reaching for the matching blazer. 

"Not if the truth doesn't advance your political agenda," Will muttered darkly, slipping his undershirt over his head. 

"Could you help me with my pearls?" Ainsley asked, pulling her long hair to one side. Will stood behind her and clasped the necklace around her pale neck. He softly kissed the skin beneath her ear and she leaned back against him. He put his arms around her. 

"I don't think you have to worry. They'll believe you, Will Bailey. You're the most honest man I've ever met and the Congressmen will recognize it as soon as you begin to speak," she murmured. 

"I'm not even really worried about me," Will admitted. "I've only been with the Administration for a few months. I can always go back to California." 

She turned her head and looked at him sadly. 

"Or maybe just find another job here in DC," Will said quickly, tightening his hold around her tiny waist. "I can flip a mean hamburger." 

She gave him a tight smile. "Will!" 

"But I am worried about Josh and Donna, and Leo - and even CJ and Danny. I've heard the Committee is planning to rip them to shreds just to cripple the Administration and deep-six any future political aspirations Josh may have." Will sighed and released her, going in search of his dress shirt. 

"Over there, Hon." Ainsley pointed to the blue shirt crumpled at the foot of the bed before walking over to her dresser and picking up her hair brush. 

He retrieved his shirt and tried to shake some of the wrinkles out of it. Frowning, he added, "Ainsley, these are good public servants. Men - and women - of good conscience can disagree over political objectives, but this personal search and destroy mission..." His voice trailed off as he contemplated the ordeal ahead and the missing button on his shirt. 

Tossing down her hair brush, Ainsley turned to face the young speechwriter. She reached up and cradled his somber face in her hands. "There are people of conscience on both sides of the aisle. Trust in that," she whispered, her eyes searching his for understanding. 

He kissed her, softly at first and then deepening it. His hands moved to her skirt zipper. 

She pulled back and arched an eyebrow at him. "Don't you have a meeting?" she questioned. 

"I'd like to be thoroughly relaxed before going over my testimony," he murmured, his lips kissing a trail down her pale neck. "It might keep me from breaking out in hives again." 

"Stop," she said firmly, stepping away. 

His crestfallen face made her smile. 

"I have to turn off the fire under the grits first." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"If I try to join you in there, are you going to hit me like you did in Vegas?" Mac asked, standing a safe distance away from the shower curtain. 

"Yes. Go make some coffee or something." 

"I'll wash your back for you," Mac teased, knowing she was going to kick him out. The woman had clearly made known her preference for solitary bathing. 

"I'll do my own washing, thank you. Go walk your dog." 

"Okay. But you don't know what you're missing. I'm a wiz with a loofah sponge." 

Debbie stuck her wet head around the edge of the shower curtain, holding the plastic against her torso. "You don't have a loofah sponge." 

He came close enough to give her a quick kiss. "I'll get one just for you. And some of that soap you like. Then maybe you'll stay over more often. Whiskey likes it when you're here in the mornings." 

"Whiskey likes bacon and you don't take the time to cook breakfast when you're here alone." 

"Never seems worth the effort," he sadly confessed, staring into her eyes. 

She nervously pushed her hair back behind her ears. "Instead of investing in a loofah sponge, why don't you and Whiskey move in with me?" 

He stared at her for a couple of seconds. He knew her offer wasn't given without a lot of serious thought on her part. 

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. 

"Are you sure? I'm not an easy man to live with." He pretended to be only vaguely interested in her offer, but inside his heart had skipped a few beats at the thought of being with her full-time. 

She reached out an arm and brought his mouth to hers for another quick kiss. "I'm not an easy woman to live with. I've got rules. No more drinking by yourself and Whiskey has to sleep in her own bed." 

"Do we get to shower together?" He grinned at the disgruntled expression that appeared on her face. 

"No. Now go away old man before all the hot water is gone." She disappeared back behind the shower curtain. 

He grinned and left the room, whistling for Whiskey. She was going to be very excited about the move. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Danny? I'm late, I've got to leave now. Are you ready?" CJ grabbed her briefcase off the coffee table and searched for her reading glasses. "Danny?" 

He jogged down the staircase. "I'm coming, keep your pants on." 

She frowned at him. 

He grinned. "Or not." 

"If you want breakfast, you'll have to get it in the Mess. I should have been in my office 15 minutes ago." She spotted her reading glasses on an end table, along with a briefing book on the CDC budget proposal. "Damn, I forgot to read the CDC thing." 

She turned to grab both items, only to be detained by a 180 pound reporter wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Danny!" 

"Morning after regrets?" he whispered, kissing her cheek. 

She relaxed against him for a moment. Turning her head, she smiled at him. "No, no regrets. You?" 

He nodded. "A few. If we'd gone through with it, you'd be Mrs. Daniel Elliot Concannon right now." 

"Elliot?" She giggled. "I don't know that I can marry someone named Elliot." 

He pulled her around to face him. "Hey. Just cause we decided to wait until our family and friends could attend - and until I had on a suitable shirt - doesn't mean you get to rethink the whole thing." 

"I know." CJ brushed her mouth over his. "You had blood tests and it really hurt. You were very clear last night that because of the 'blood letting' I can't back out." 

"Remember," he joked, wrapping a hand behind her head and bringing her lips to his, "I'm also out a pair of hockey tickets to the Judge. Money has changed hands. You're legally committed." 

Eyes twinkling, she kissed him then immediately pulled back. "Just you remember your promise that we could have any kind of wedding I wanted." 

"Within reason I said," he clarified, closing the distance between their mouths again. "No underwater stuff and no skydiving." 

"We'll see," she quipped, just before his lips sealed over hers. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Toby?" Andi called to him from the bedroom. 

He spit out the toothpaste filling his mouth, then rinsed. Turning off the bathroom faucet, he answered,"Yeah?" 

"Can you remember to pick up diapers today? We're getting low." 

He dried his mouth and took a look in the mirror. He turned his head from one side to the other, checking to see if he'd lost any more hair. "I'll make a note, but call Ginger and have her remind me anyway." 

"Okay." 

Opening some aftershave, he slapped some on his neck. 

"Toby?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Can you come here a minute?" 

He tightened the towel that was wrapped around his waist and walked into the bedroom, looking for her. "I'm running late, Andi. What is it? Where are you?" 

She stepped out of the closet wearing a red sequined evening gown that she'd worn to Bartlet's first Inauguration. She smiled and smoothed her hands down the skin-tight dress. "I can get into this. Can you believe it? After the babies, I never thought it would fit again." 

Toby grinned. Most of the dress fit very well. The strapless top - well not so much. She must not have looked in the mirror or she'd have noticed that more was out of the dress than was in. But he wasn't going to say anything to ruin her mood. 

"Can you be really late this morning?" She looped her arms around his neck. "The babies are still asleep." 

He gave her a test kiss then tilted his head to the side, listening. 

Andi laughed. "What in the world are you doing?" 

"Our son has a habit of knowing exactly when we're about to make love. I don't know how he does it, but his timing is incredible." 

"Toby, you're getting paranoid in your old age." She tugged the towel from his waist and let it drop. "Huck is fast asleep two rooms down the hall. We can hear him using the baby monitor, but he can't hear us." 

"Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you." He glanced down at her cleavage. "That's a beautiful dress, Congresswoman. Are you planning on wearing it all day?" 

"Only long enough for you to take it off me," she whispered, running her hands over his bare chest. 

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her. 

Huck screamed like the devil himself had gotten a hold of him. 


	8. Foul Ball 8

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

It was day three of the House Hearings and Donna was the next scheduled witness. At 2:00 am, Leo had paged key staffers to be at the White House for a meeting in the Oval Office at 6:30 am. Donna would head to the Hill right after. They were waiting for the President and the Chief of Staff. Debbie Fiderer was standing by the windows with Margaret, Ed, and Larry, going over last minute changes in the President's schedule. Toby, Will, and Josh were huddled together, still trying to call in favors to limit the scope of the hearings. 

"How are you doing?" CJ sidled up to Donna, who was stirring a packet of Sweet 'n Low into her coffee. 

"Fine," she answered quickly. 

CJ silently arched an eyebrow reflecting her doubt and Donna gave a small smile. "OK, I'm a little nervous, especially given what happened the last time I appeared before a Congressional committee..." She looked down at the floor, lost in thought. 

"Huh?" CJ asked. "Your last appearance? Oh, right you were deposed during the MS hearings. Nah, that was a piece of cake. You were in and out in under 15 minutes. Hell, didn't you date the Chief Counsel, what was his name, the short guy with curly hair, Cliff Calley? Please, we should only pray that in some other lifetime you've dated this Committee Chief Counsel. Did you ever swing both ways? It might help. Jennifer Stevens gives new meaning to the term ball breaker." 

Donna nodded. "She ripped those two CIA staffers to pieces. They're so far down on the food chain in the agency, they barely know where Qumar is, but she had them from the moment they said, 'good morning, Mr. Chairman'. And I saw Lillienfeld's aides passing questions to Ames, the Republican representative from Texas. Josh says they've got operatives in the field trolling for information about each of the witnesses. They're not bothering to confirm the stuff, just picking up whatever crap they can find and passing it directly to the Republicans on the Committee." 

"Guess that means I can only hope they never find Mary Lou Jacobsen," CJ said with a nervous smile. 

"Who's she?" 

"A friend in eighth grade who taught me how to sneak into the Avalon Theater without paying for a ticket. We also regularly shoplifted Milk Duds from the drugstore before the movie." 

"What happened to Mary Lou?" Donna asked. "Doing hard time at Alcatraz for her life of crime?" 

"Nah, she hooked up with Joey Marchese, a pimply faced popcorn vendor, who offered her free soda with her Milk Duds. I was back to paying for my own tickets before the end of the summer." 

CJ looked across the room where Josh was still strategizing with Toby and Will. "How's *he* doing?" 

"He was doing fine with the political stuff until he got all noble and decided he needed to call my parents. Wanted to explain what would happen today and apologize for, as he described it, 'putting me in harm's way'. Dad wanted to know why Josh hadn't ripped out Lillienfeld's liver with a spoon, so Josh spent the rest of the night pacing the floors blaming himself for not being a 'real man' and ordering a hit on Lillienfeld, Claypool, and maybe the guy I dated in college." 

CJ gave an appraising glance at her friend's outfit. "Well, if you're going down in flames, at least, you look good. Is that a Donna Karan?" 

Donna wore a dark navy fitted dress that had a pencil-thin red stripe and matching jacket. It effectively showed off her blonde hair, which hung straight to her shoulders. Her only jewelry were pearl earrings and, of course, her engagement ring. 

"I went to Bloomingdale's yesterday and searched for a 'I'm testifying before a Congressional hearing where I will probably be accused of being a whore, but I'm a competent professional who happens to be a girl in love' suit, preferably under $200. You think it sends that message?" 

CJ nodded. "Definitely." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"I think that covers it. Margaret, do you have a copy of Leo's schedule for me?" Debbie Fiderer held her notebook open, waiting for Margaret to find the correct page in her stack. 

"Here it is." Margaret nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "I wish today was over. I hate going to the Hill." 

"Have you ever testified before?" Larry asked, pulling at his tie. "I haven't and neither has Ed." 

Ed nodded in agreement. "Never even sat in on one of those hearings. Think it will take long?" 

Margaret sighed. "I've been there when Leo's had to testify. It's as bad as you're imagining, plus some." 

"Debbie? How about you?" 

"Yeah. A couple of times over budget items when I worked for GAO. Margaret's right, it's quite an ordeal. It's like getting your wisdom teeth pulled. You think the shot is bad, just wait for the pressure as they pull and pull, trying to yank the root out. Then there's the blood. The politicians are always after blood." 

"Debbie!" Margaret touched the older's woman's arm, directing her attention to a green-tinged Ed. 

Debbie pasted on a fake smile. "Or maybe it was just me. I'm sure you'll be fine." 

"No, we won't," Larry groaned. "It's always the lower level guys like us who end up spending time in Leavenworth. I should have gone into business with my Dad, anything would be better than this." 

"What does your father do?" Margaret politely asked. 

Larry grimaced. "Plumber." 

Debbie chuckled. "They certainly make more money than we do." 

"Yeah, but . . " Ed started, then paused as a thought occurred to him. "They have to clean up other people's, you know. Handle it - get things moving again." 

Larry glumly stared at his co-workers as realization set in. "It's a lot like what we do." 

"Without the money," Ed reflected. 

"Yeah." Larry stuck his hands in his pockets. "Or the plunger." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They'd walked up one flight of stairs in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Jed spoke. "I had to know Leo. I started to wonder if the whole thing was built like a house of cards. A slip of the ace and the whole thing tumbles down." 

"You could have told me," Leo said coldly. "You have a habit of keeping things to yourself and leaving me to clean up the mess." 

"That's not true," Jed denied heatedly, stopping on the third step from the top of the second set of stairs. The Secret Service agents trailed a discreet distance away, one ahead of the Commander in Chief, one several steps below. Each agent scanned the surrounding area. Despite being in the West Wing, caution continued to be the watchword. 

"You never told me about your MS until you collapsed on the floor," Leo hissed, old wounds opening up again. 

"Are you ever going to forgive me for that?" Jed snapped. "I've done all the penance I intend to do for that transgression." 

"Going behind my back to the CIA to question the validity of the information I gave you," Leo growled. "If you wanted my resignation, all you had to do was ask." 

"I don't want your damn resignation and I wasn't questioning you or your competence. I was worried whether Hickcock and James had their own agenda. It's me who gave the order to kill a man," Jed argued. 

"Based on the best information we had. And why didn't you come to me with your concerns," Leo pressed. 

The President was silent, unsure how to phrase his answer. Finally, in a soft voice he answered. "I didn't want any more filters. I wanted to know and make my own decision." 

"So you're saying that you wouldn't have ordered the assassination of Shareef if I hadn't recommended it," Leo stated baldly. 

Silence again descended. Leo began walking past the President when Bartlet stopped him. "I need you, Leo, but I also need to be my own man. I've got to live with myself after all this," he gestured around him, "is over." 

"You'll have my..." 

"NO. Don't do this, Leo," the President pleaded. "This Administration can't take any more right now." 

Leo nodded, then in a cold, detached voice, added, "Alright. We'll revisit this in a few months." 

The two men walked up the stairs together but, for the first time in more than five years, apart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Jed Bartlet and Leo McGarry quickly entered the crowded room. 

"Good morning, Mr. President," the group chorused. 

"Sit," Bartlet impatiently gestured and they settled on the silk sofas and wing chairs that decorated the room. 

"Donna." The President smiled softly as he faced the blonde assistant. "How are you doing this morning?" 

"I'm a little nervous, Sir, but fine. Thank you," she answered shyly, tightly holding Josh's hand on her knee. Despite their vow to Leo that they would maintain professional decorum whenever they were at work, by tacit agreement, this morning was an exception. Donna - and Josh - both needed the personal connection. 

"I'm sorry, Donna, that you're the first one from the White House Staff to appear. As you know, the Committee chair has set the agenda and the witness list with no consultation..." the President said apologetically. 

"It's alright, Sir. Joe Quincy has gone over my testimony thoroughly. John Charles, a friend of Sam's from Arnold and Porter, will serve as my counsel at the hearings. I'm ready," Donna assured the Commander-in-Chief. 

"If I thought they were only interested in the truth of what you knew..." Bartlet grimly continued. "Unfortunately, I think we all know better." 

"It's really alright, Sir. We're ready for whatever they throw at us," Donna said, turning to Josh for confirmation. He nodded. 

Bartlet didn't look convinced. He sighed and then motioned to Leo to start. 

The craggy Chief of Staff took a deep breath before beginning. "Late last night, Jeff Zimmer, third in command at the CIA, came to my office with information that will affect the outcome of these hearings, maybe the fate of this Administration." He stopped, overcome with emotion, his face a mask of tightly controlled rage. 

"Wh...what is it, Leo?" Josh finally stammered. "What the hell did Zimmer tell you?" 

"He told me that the Golden Gate Bridge terrorist plot, the basis for initiating the plan to assassinate Shareef, was a lie," Leo said bitterly. 

The stunned silence was finally broken by Debbie Fiderer. "So Shareef wasn't a terrorist at all. We killed an innocent man?" 

"No, no, no," Bartlet quickly interrupted, sparing a glance at Leo. "James and Hickcock at the CIA manufactured Shareef's involvement in a plot to blow up the Golden Gate Bridge, but the rest of the background on Shareef was absolutely true. There is no question whatsoever that Shareef was responsible for the deaths of innocent civilians. He masterminded the explosions at our embassies in Nigeria and Indonesia. He has been funnelling funds to a fringe terrorist group on the West Bank responsible for dozens of bus bombs. He ordered the hit on two Israeli cabinet officers. He personally, in his youth, led attacks on Jewish settlements. He has close ties to Al Qaeda. No, the man was a terrorist and a danger to us. The CIA wanted him dead and saw his visit to the States as an opportunity to get him." 

Bartlet glanced again at Leo, then angrily admitted, "They invented the imminent threat to push all the buttons that led me to agree to the plan to assassinate him. They played me." 

Regaining his voice, Leo interjected, "I've offered my resignation, as have Fitz and Nancy. We're the ones who recommended the course of action." 

"And I've rejected all three resignations," Jed said firmly, reassuring the room. His face hardened and he added, "Taking out Shareef was my decision, my responsibility. But by God I want the heads of James and Hickcock on pikes and displayed in the Rose Garden before the end of the day. I won't allow the CIA or any agency to lie to the President of the United States with impunity, no matter what their motives." 

"Zimmer too?" Will asked, trying to process what he'd just been told. 

"No." Bartlet shook his head. "He's our guy. He says he didn't know about the lies until yesterday and I believe him. But James and Hickcock - those two were appointed by the previous Republican administration. I didn't want to politicize the Agency so I left them in place. But they've been screwing up for years. The India-Pakistan crisis four years ago should have been the tipoff that they had their own agendas," Jed said ruefully. 

"I want the hearings postponed," Josh anxiously announced, his gaze moving from Leo to the President and back again. "We're not sending Donna into that pack of wolves now. This news is gonna break and..." 

"I already checked with Joe Quincy," Leo calmly interrupted. "He doesn't think he can get a postponement. He'll try but there's blood in the water from the first two witnesses. It's hard to keep back the sharks." He held up his hand to stay Josh's reply. "But I'm hoping to keep a lid on this information for a little while. There's more at stake than just us. There are operative lives that are at risk if we reveal all we know about Shareef." 

"But if this news leaks," Josh pushed, "Donna will take the brunt of it." 

"I know," Leo said softly. "But if we push for a continuance, that might tip them off that there's more to the story than we're letting on." 

"Can't we get the Committee in executive session and reveal the lies?" Toby tersely demanded. "Isn't that what executive sessions are for?" 

"I've got a call into the Speaker's office, but he's on a hunting trip in North Carolina and can't be reached. He doesn't know about this new material, but I think his plan is to play out these hearings, embarrass the Administration," Leo offered. 

Just then Charlie came in with a note for the President. 

Bartlet scanned its content and rose from his chair. Nodding to Leo, he explained, "I've got to go to the Situation Room, Nancy needs to brief me. There's a problem." 

"Should I...should I head to the Hill?" Donna asked tentatively, getting to her feet. 

"I'm afraid you'll have to," Leo said with regret. "You're waiting in Andi's office?" 

Donna nodded. 

The President took hold of the blonde assistant's hands. "You'll do just fine. I'm keeping you in my prayers." He kissed her on the cheek. 

"Leo, I'm going to go see if I can irritate a Joint Chief, can you finish up here?" The President glanced over at Leo. 

Leo held his gaze and said cooly, "Sure, I've got it covered." 

"I know you do. Thank you." Jed gave his old friend a slight smile and left the room. 

"Shit," Josh cursed as the door closed. "It just keeps on coming." 

Larry looked knowingly at Ed. 


	9. Foul Ball 9

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

The Senior Staff filed into Leo's Office. Margaret, Donna, Ed, Larry, and Debbie followed. Charlie chose to continue with his work, grumbling,"Someone has to mind the phones." 

Leo nodded at Josh to shut the door connecting Leo's office to the private corridor leading to the Oval Office. Margaret closed the other door, the one leading to her workspace. 

"All right, let's have it," an agitated Leo barked, looking from one face to another. 

"Is there something else we need to know before we give testimony?" Toby asked, picking up the gauntlet. "Anything else you and the President might have forgotten to mention?" 

Leo glared at him. "Toby, I got you a lifeboat once and you turned it down. But I'm sure you can swim to shore if the water's too deep for you now. You know where the door is." 

He turned and addressed the rest of the room. "I'm only going to say this once more - the CIA guys acted without the knowledge of the President and myself. I trust Fitzwallace and Nancy McNally when they tell me the same. We made a mistake relying on that information but that doesn't mean taking out Shareef was a mistake. The man was a terrorist." 

Larry raised his hand. 

"What the hell? What?" Leo nodded at the man. 

"The public isn't going to believe that after the forged documents are made public. They're going to think we're lying to them again." 

"Again?" 

Ed stepped up to the plate. "Well, the MS thing-" 

Leo cut him off. "We didn't lie. Not then and not now. Shareef was a cold-blooded killer." 

"How do you really know that?" Will asked, his voice matter of fact. "How do you know that the other information given to you wasn't a load of-" 

"Dammit, I can't show you the proof. It's classified," Leo growled, moving to his chair and sitting down. 

"Like the real Warren Committee records?" Debbie interjected. 

Leo rolled his eyes. "God, not that again." 

Debbie's face darkened. "Some of us will never-" 

"Not now," Leo snapped. 

Silence descended on the room. 

Leo rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, people. You're all just going to have to trust me. Shareef killed hundreds of innocent people, many of them Americans. He would have killed hundreds more." 

Making a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan, Toby crossed his arms. "I'm sure you understand that 'trust me' isn't going to cut it anymore." 

A clearly exasperated Leo put on his reading glasses. "It's going to have to, Toby. You either trust me or you don't." 

Before Toby could give an answer he'd regret, CJ stepped in front of him. "Leo, what am I going to tell the Press?" 

Fury flashed over the Chief of Staff's features. "Hell, CJ. I don't suppose it matters one iota what I tell you to tell them. I imagine Mr. Concannon already got his exclusive this morning." 

CJ's face turned a dull red. "I have never-" 

"Save it," Leo growled. "I don't want to hear how your first loyalty is to this Administration. If that was true you wouldn't be sleeping with the enemy." 

"I don't think Danny is the enemy, Leo." Josh pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning against and came to stand by CJ. "You're just upset-" 

"Ya think? Who was it that started this ball rolling downhill? Concannon has been nothing but a thorn-" 

"Danny didn't cause this situation. You and the President did," CJ hissed, taking another step towards Leo's desk. "Just because Danny is good at his job is no reason for you to..." 

"Too bad you're not as good at yours!" Leo tossed his glasses on his desk and got to his feet again. 

Everyone stopped breathing as the two faced off. 

CJ's face turned from red to purple. "Leo, you know what? Maybe this is just the time for me to-" 

Toby grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the door. "I think we all need some fresh air." 

Ever alert to danger, Margaret quickly opened the door and Toby managed to herd the Press Secretary out it before she could do more than sputter her protests. 

"Toby's right for a change. Everyone get out." Leo sat back down at his desk and pulled out a file. 

The room rapidly cleared, except for Josh. 

Leo sensed eyes on him and looked up. "What part of 'get out' did you not understand?" 

"It's not your fault," Josh calmly responded. "Don't blame yourself for what those CIA flunkies did." 

The older man flushed. "He trusted me to get it right, Josh. I should have made him clean house at the CIA during our first term." 

"Hey, you couldn't have known-" 

"Yeah. I really could have." Leo sighed, all his bluster gone. "Go. Donna needs you with her this morning." 

Josh turned and moved towards the door, stopping with his hand on the doorknob. "About CJ-" 

"I'll send her some candy. Get out." 

Josh smiled. "Yes, Sir." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"What are you doing here?" Debbie asked, startled to see Mac standing by her desk. "I thought you were still in hiding." 

Mac shrugged. "I got some news this morning from a friend over at the Agency. I thought maybe I should check and see if-" 

"If you're talking about what I think you're talking about, the President knows. He just told us." 

"Good." 

"There's nothing good about it," she angrily retorted, slapping her notebook on her desk. 

He took a step back. "Hey, I didn't mean-" 

Debbie crossed her arms and glared at him. "Maybe you need some better friends. How come they didn't know about this months ago?" 

Mac held up his hands. "Whoa, girl. How did this get to be my fault? I'm retired, remember?" 

She raised her eyebrows. "Sure." 

"Debbie?" He took another step back. 

"What?" She held her stare. 

"Whatever you're thinking - you're wrong." 

"You know Jeff Zimmer." 

A blood vessel on the side of his temple pulsed. "Not really-" 

"He called for you the other night - you remember the night of the State Dinner? No, I guess you wouldn't, that was the night you spent passed out on the sofa. Or was it?" She stepped towards him. "Are you running an operation right now?" 

"Debbie, can we not do this? Especially not here." Mac nervously glanced around and nodded at Charlie who was trying to appear inconspicuous. 

She ignored his question. "I didn't put two and two together until just now. What's your role in all this?" 

"Let's take a walk." He grabbed her arm and practically force-marched her out onto the portico. "Debbie, I-" 

"How much of what you told me the other day was true? Was the drinking thing a cover? The fear of being subpoenaed - was that just a way to account for going MIA on me? I don't like what I'm thinking. I don't like being used..." 

His grip on her arm tightened. "I haven't lied to you." 

She glared at him. "But have you told me the whole truth?" 

Mac surveyed the area, then met her angry gaze. "I've shared more of my life with you than I have anyone. But there are still some things I can't go into. Some things I can't tell you." 

She paled and jerked away from him. "Are you still working for them?" 

Mac just stared at her, not bothering to deny it. 

A third voice entered the fray. "Debbie." 

Startled, she turned and found the President standing behind her. 

"Give him a break. He's working for me." Jed Bartlet patted her shoulder and nodded to Mac. 

"Since when?" Debbie demanded. 

The President ignored the question. "Mac has connections to the nerve center of the Agency. He can reach the men and women who do the real work of protecting our country. What I get is filtered through the lens of political agendas. I needed to be sure of my information before I sent you all into harm's way up on the Hill." He looked into her eyes, willing her to understand and forgive, then walked past them down the portico and into the Oval Office. 

They watched his progress in silence. 

"Who's Zimmer?" Debbie asked after a moment. 

"The number three guy at the Agency. Not a bad fella," Mac conceded, "and we needed a more senior guy to be the face of the news. It protects the President and the guys on the line who risked their jobs in telling the truth." 

"A year late, wouldn't you say," Debbie countered. 

"You don't understand. They didn't disagree with the decision to kill Shareef. He was a brutal thug who'd been responsible for the deaths of two agents. But these are patriots and lying to the President is unacceptable. They just needed to find a way to get the info to him. Let it go, Debbie." 

Mac took her hand and squeezed it. "Do you want chicken or fish tonight? I'm going shopping." 

The bewildered expression on her face made him chuckle and pull her in for a hug. "Debbie, let's go with the chicken, okay? I feel like firing up your grill tonight." 

The Presidential Secretary took a deep breath and considered her options. The man had more secrets than a Sphinx and she was going to need to lay in a supply of aspirin if he moved in with her, but he was certainly more interesting to have around than alpacas. "Chicken is fine, old man." She stepped away from him, narrowing her eyes. "But, we'll discuss your getting your hands on my grill later. I still have some questions I want answers to." 

Mac grinned. "I told you. There are no more records on the Kennedy assassination." 

"Right," she sarcastically responded, turning in the opposite direction and heading for the glass doors leading into her office. "That's what they all say." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

He literally pulled her through the doorway and out of Leo's office. CJ tried to shake off the death grip Toby had on her arm, but he refused to let go until they'd travelled the length of the hallway to her office. He released her arm and quickly shut the door. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" CJ demanded, rubbing at the bruise she knew was going to appear on her arm. 

"Saving you from yourself," Toby answered flatly. "A nuclear explosion was about to detonate in that room and I didn't want you to say something you'd regret." 

"My only regret is that I didn't tell Leo McGarry to take my letter of resignation and shove it where the sun don't shine." CJ's eyes flashed, her hands waving wildly, her anger palpable. "I should have done it a long time ago." 

"Claudia Jean," Toby began, trying to defuse the situation. "We've all had-" 

"Don't you dare, Toby. Don't you dare," CJ hissed. "I've had it up to here," she gestured above her head, "with this Administration's treatment of the female senior staff. Oh, wait, there aren't any other female senior staff, there's just me," she said bitterly. 

"Leo's just frustrated," Toby tried. 

"Bullshit. I've heard this crap for five years. The only time there is a conflict of interest in whom someone is dating is when it's me and Danny. Otherwise, you, Josh, Will, Sam, could date Glenallen Walken himself and no one would blink an eye." 

"You're being too emotional," Toby argued, regretting his choice of words the instant they left his mouth. 

CJ stared coldly. "Emotional? Again if I disagree, it's because I'm emotional. But if you or Josh differ, than it's men presenting legitimate differences of opinion?" 

"You objected plenty when Sam dated..." 

"A prostitute," CJ interrupted. "When Sam dated a prostitute, I was concerned that it would be a problem for the Administration. Daniel Concannon is not a prostitute." 

"But he is causing problems for the Administration," Toby insisted. "You have to acknowledge that." 

"No, Toby, the Administration is quite capable of creating its own problems. Danny isn't manufacturing a terrorist plot, we have our own people to do that," CJ said sarcastically. "I don't know if you checked recently, but a free press is one of the rights guaranteed by the US Constitution." 

"But if he hadn't pursued the investigation..." 

"Then how many more times would Hickcock and James have felt free to give false information to the President. How much have they given already? But I'm not going to stand here and argue about the Fourth Estate. Danny and I know exactly what our jobs are and what the conflicts may be. I didn't give him a single piece of information that wasn't approved by Leo, and he didn't ask for any. And when Leo asked him to postpone his article last May for National Security reasons, he did it immediately. I've had it, Toby. I was an idiot four years ago when I pushed Danny away because the President and Leo told me it was him or my job." 

"Suppose they tell you that again," Toby said softly. 

"I'd tell them both to shove it, and then I'll sue the hell out of this Administration," CJ answered firmly. 

"You don't mean that." 

"Toby, you've got two kids now. You know that you've never been happier or more fulfilled in your life. Whether Andi ever marries you again or not, you and she created Huck and Molly, the wonder twins." CJ smiled gently. "I want that, Toby. I want that," she declared fiercely. 

She sat down on her couch, suddenly exhausted. 

Toby sat down at the other end of the couch and stared at his friend. 

She silently met his gaze. 

"Danny wants that too?" Toby finally asked. 

"Yes," CJ answered simply. "I love him and miracle of miracles, he loves me. He's asked me to marry him and I've accepted. We want children and we can't wait until this Administration is over to start trying. I'm not exactly a spring chicken," she laughed, then added soberly, "And you, of all people, know that the odds of conceiving at my age are..." 

"You ready for twins?" Toby chuckled, sarcastically adding,"I have to warn you that it's not as easy at it might appear from watching me." 

"Toby, I have a brain and a uterus. I can use both. If this Administration won't support me, I'll leave. And as much as I love all of you, I won't go quietly," CJ said plainly. 

Toby gave her a small smile. "Claudia Jean, if Leo and the President don't offer you Mazel Tov on your engagement and then throw you a bridal shower, I'll go with you. I promise." 


	10. Foul Ball 10

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

Josh snapped shut his cell phone and glanced around the office, looking for his fiancee. He'd been on the phone with Matt Skinner, trying to get a read on what questions the Committee would fire at Donna. From what Skinner was hearing from his Republican colleagues, Donna could expect to be grilled on possible leaks to Danny. Josh probed, without revealing anything, and it didn't appear that the Committee had heard about the CIA deceptions. Josh figured he didn't have much to be grateful for, but he'd take what he could get. 

He settled his eyes on Donnatella Moss, who was staring at a photo of Toby and Andi holding Huck and Molly. He barely recognized Toby, the huge grin uncharacteristic of the usually dour speechwriter. But this was the face of a father, proud, protective, loving. 

"I want this," Donna whispered, and Josh crossed the room and put his arms around her. Andi had lent them her office while they awaited the start of the hearings. Donna leaned into his touch. 

"I want that too," Josh murmured, "although not necessarily two at once, okay?" 

"I don't think we get much choice. We'll just take what we get," Donna reassured him. 

"I'm sorry," Josh began. 

"Don't," she interrupted. She turned to face him. "You couldn't control this, you're not responsible for this mess. Leo and the President aren't responsible either." 

"Maybe I shouldn't have hired you when you walked into my office in Manchester," Josh worried. 

"Like you had much choice," Donna laughed softly. He joined her in agreement. 

"Maybe if I'd been honest with myself. Admitted to myself fifteen minutes after meeting you that I was hopelessly in love with you," Josh began again. 

"We'd still be here today," Donna answered, pulling Josh over to the couch to sit down. She put her head down on his shoulder. 

"Be honest, Donnatella," Josh said firmly. "Don't try and protect me." 

"I'd do it again," Donna answered with just as much conviction. "Back then you needed the protection." 

"I didn't then, I don't now," Josh insisted. 

"No, you don't need it now," Donna agreed. She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand, then continued. "But that October, you were still reeling from the MS revelation and then there was the big Tobacco debacle. Bruno ripped you to shreds for it and you were doubting yourself every day. I saw hints of the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder returning. I was so scared for you. I couldn't let them see the diary, Josh. I'd written it all down, told my diary what I couldn't tell anyone else." 

"Promise you won't lie today, no matter what they ask about me or about our relationship." 

"I'm not afraid anymore. We're in this together. I don't need a diary," Donna said, squeezing his hand. "We can survive anything." 

Josh looked across at the picture of the Wyatt-Ziegler family and smiled. "Even triplets, Donna." She laughed and he kissed her gently on the lips. He started to deepen the kiss when there was a knock at the door and one of Andi's legislative assistants walked in. "There's an urgent call for you, Josh. It's from Margaret. You can take it on Representative Wyatt's desk." 

Josh crossed the room and picked up the phone, puzzled and concerned. "Margaret, what's the matter?" 

He listened intently, interrupting only once to ask, "Why?" 

After just a few moments, he hung up the phone and faced Donna who had moved to stand by his side. 

"The hearings have been postponed. Leo wants us back as soon as possible." 

"What happened?" Donna asked, gathering her coat and tote bag. 

"I don't have a clue," Josh answered, looping his arm through hers. "But let's get out of here and find out." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

No one knew what to make of a second summons to the Oval Office, but all agreed that it couldn't be good news. 

"How are we supposed to get any work done?" Toby grumbled, speed-walking down the hall from his office. "I can't get one uninterrupted minute to work on that Wheat Farmers speech. Assuming we have a job this time next week, I'm gonna have to plagiarize the text from a cereal box, just so the President will have something to say." 

"Make sure it's a wheat-based cereal," Will dryly offered as he jogged two steps behind him. "We don't want to anger the corn or rice growers. What's in Coco Puffs anyway?" 

"Shut up." Toby bypassed the sofas and chairs. He wasn't in the mood to get up close and personal with his co-workers again. He had spent a lot of the time since the earlier meeting seriously considering his swimming skills and whether a steady paycheck was an absolute necessity now that he was a father. A quick scan of his checkbook balance had drove home the point that it was. He was trapped. Sighing, he found a discreet spot near the door and leaned against the wall. 

"You should be nicer to me. I have a rough draft of said speech already ready for you to edit." Will continued to follow him, smiling at Toby's look of surprise. 

Toby raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were working on the Prescription Drug Coverage position paper? Remember? The assignment I gave you yesterday?" 

Will crossed his arms and took a spot against the wall next to his boss. "Done. I put it on your desk last night before I went home." 

Toby also crossed his arms, a grunt his only acknowledgment that Will had impressed him. 

"Hey, what's going on?" Ed asked as he and Larry appeared at Toby's side. "We're supposed to be researching Liberia for Josh. We're getting backed up." 

Toby glanced at them and then pointedly towards the President's desk. "I have no idea. You'll have to wait for the President like the rest of us." 

Larry paced in front of the group. "Think it's about the hearings? Has Donna testified yet?" 

Before Toby could repeat himself, Margaret suddenly materialized next to Will. "Donna and Josh are on their way back. Leo had me call them. No hearings today." 

Will frowned. "Is that good or bad?" 

Debbie joined their group. "I can't help but think it's good. Remember Josh asked for a continuance during our first meeting today." 

An agitated CJ marched up behind Larry and placed her hand on his shoulder, anchoring him in place. "I'm late for a press briefing. What's happening? Why did the President call this meeting?" 

"We don't know yet, but-" Will was interrupted by Toby pushing his way out of the crowd milling around him. 

A concerned Larry called after the older man. "Toby? Are you alright?" 

Toby sat down in an arm chair, growling, "Everybody, just shut up and wait. I'm sure we'll know soon enough." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The President stood in front of the group and smiled. "Where's Josh and Donna?" 

"Here," the Deputy Chief of Staff responded, slipping in the door with his assistant. "Sorry, the traffic was a mess." 

"No problem." Jed Bartlet surveyed the group. "Leo, do you want to give them the good news or should I?" 

Leo pointed silently at the President. Although the Chief of Staff had a perfectly neutral expression on his face, there was a sudden chill in the room. 

"It's over, folks. Leo and I are going to have to give testimony in a closed session, but everyone else is off the hook," Bartlet declared with a smile. 

"What happened?" Josh asked. "This morning we couldn't even get a continuance, now you're telling us that it's over?" 

"I got a phone call this morning from the Speaker of the House. He was taking a break from his hunting and about to take a tour of an Ashville sporting goods store - restocking his munitions I think - anyway he called. He knows about the problems at the CIA and surprisingly grasps what's at stake with continuing these hearings. To quote him, he's 'calling off the dogs.'" Bartlet grinned. "Hear the silence, folks? The hounds of hell are confined once more." 

"There has to be more to his change of heart than that. He never does anything without gaining a political advantage," Josh argued. "What's in this for him?" 

"When did you become so jaded, Josh?" the President asked, his eyes sparkling as he leaned back against his desk. 

"I think it was when I was seven and lost my first girlfriend to Jimmy Anderson's ability to get free candy from his Dad's grocery store. But, hey - at least Buffy Wilson told me flat out why she was dumping me. What's the real story here?" 

Jed glanced at Leo, who was staring straight ahead, his face a controlled mask. The President looked away, then continued. "We don't know, Josh. All the Speaker said was that 'there are people of conscience...'" 

"On both sides of the aisle. Trust in that," Will finished for the Commander in Chief. 

"Yes, that's *exactly* what he said," Jed Bartlet exclaimed in surprise. "How did you know?" 

Will's face turned a bright shade of red, but he couldn't contain the ear-splitting grin. 

"Ainsley Hayes," Toby quickly mumbled, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a cigar. 

"Toby?" The President redirected his attention to the dour man sitting in the arm chair closest to him. "What was that?" 

Toby cleared his throat and unwrapped the tobacco. He couldn't smoke it in the White House but he could smell it. "I'll bet Will's salary that Ainsley Hayes is hunting in North Carolina along with her boss." 

Bartlet laughed. "I knew hiring her was the right thing to do. Remind me how it was we let her get away?" 

Will chuckled. "The Speaker offered her money and an air conditioned office." 

Laughter filled the room. Bartlet smiled and stood up straight. "Okay folks, time to get back to work. What's next?" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Several minutes were spent discussing the President's upcoming trip to Kansas and Nebraska to address farm issues and whether or not subsidies would continue. Josh and Toby argued over whether the trip could double as a fund raiser for several up-and-coming Democrats who might make runs at the Republican held offices in those states. Will weighed in, but no one else, including the President and the Chief of Staff, seemed able to focus on anything but the news about the hearings. Finally, Leo called an end to the meeting. 

The staff filed out of the Oval Office, chattering excitedly with each other and returning to work more relaxed than they had been in weeks. The undercurrent of tension in the West Wing had been eliminated with the news that they wouldn't have to testify before the Committee. Just as the Chief of Staff started to exit the room, the President called out, "Leo, could you give me a minute?" 

"Of course, Mr. President." Leo turned back, his face impassive. 

"You have to understand, Leo," Bartlet began without preamble, picking up the conversation from the steps. "I need to feel like these are *my* decisions so I can live with them." 

"Are you suggesting that I forced you to adopt the plan to assassinate Shareef?" Leo answered sharply, his tone also a continuation of the earlier mood. 

"No, of course not," the Commander in Chief snapped, quickly losing patience. "But after Zoey was kidnapped, I felt like I wasn't in control..." 

"You weren't," Leo pointed out. "But I told you then that Fitz, Nancy, and I had your back. We weren't going to let you make a mistake." 

"I needed to be sure that I had the ability to make decisions," Jed explained. 

"So you cut me out of the process?" Leo demanded. "I didn't think we worked that way." 

"I didn't want you to think I doubted you," Bartlet countered. 

"But you obviously did." 

"So your feelings are hurt? That's what this is all about? Tell me, Leo. Who's angry? My Chief of Staff or my best friend?" Jed Bartlet growled. 

"Let's leave friendship out of this because if that's going to be the criteria, I think I might say things that are totally inappropriate for these surroundings," Leo charged, eyes flashing. "I have a job to do. As you pointed out, this Administration can't take additional turmoil and disruption. I think we need to table this discussion for a few weeks. I don't think we should say anything to the staff, but I plan to include Josh in more areas so he can get the experience he'll need." 

"Don't say that," Jed pleaded. "You know how much-" 

Leo held up his hand to stay the conversation. "Please, Mr. President." 

With a quick knock at the door, Charlie entered and announced the arrival of the Ambassador from Thailand. 

Jed Bartlet sighed and nodded to his aide. "Bring him in, please." 

"Thank you, Mr. President," said the Chief of Staff stiffly, nodding once as he made his exit to his own office. 

The difficult conversation was left unfinished. 


	11. Foul Ball 11

**Foul Ball**

**by:** Rhonda and Evelyn

**Character(s):** Most  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna, CJ/Danny, Toby/Andi, Zoey/Charlie, Will/Ainsley  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not ours and never will be.  
**Spoiler:** Everything up to and including "25"  


Follows: "Bouncing Inaugural Balls", "Bouncing Back", "Rebound", "Topspin"

* * *

A rushed Debbie Fiderer opened her front door and ushered in the President's detail. Wiping her hands on her apron, she said, "Make yourself at home, guys. I'm sure you know where everything is - probably better than me. In fact, if you happen to run across a navy tablecloth in your search, drop it off in the kitchen, will you?" 

Ron gave the Presidential Secretary a nod, then gestured to the dozen or so agents that circled round him and began a survey of the house. "We're getting into place outside. But I understand most of the activities will be inside the house?" 

"Yeah," she answered, shutting the heavy wooden door behind him. "The weather is too iffy for a barbecue so we'll be in the dining room. Hope you like Italian. I'm doing a vegetarian lasagna and fixing my grandmother's ravioli." 

Ron glanced at her red-splattered apron, relieved that it was most likely tomato sauce, not blood. He'd become rather fond of Mackenzie Sullivan. The agents on the portico had been privy to most of the very vocal argument between the Presidential Secretary and the ex-CIA agent/cab driver. Or maybe that was "current" CIA agent, Ron silently considered. 

"Agent Butterfield? Do you like Italian?" she repeated. 

He nodded and unbent enough to give her a quick smile. "Smells good. I've recently considered becoming a vegetarian." 

Pleased, Debbie smiled and motioned him forward. "Well, go ahead and do what you do. I've got to get back to the kitchen. Mac is around somewhere, probably on the roof." 

"Roof?" Ron's question went unanswered, as she rushed out of the room to turn off a timer that had begun its shrill ring. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"We could have gotten a babysitter," Andi mumbled, leaning into the back seat of the car and unbelting a screaming Molly from her car seat. "I don't think the others are going to appreciate three cranky infants." 

"Three? Are you lumping me in with our wailing offspring?" An exhausted looking Toby swiftly removed a sobbing Huck from his matching car seat. 

"Yes," Andi said without hesitation. "You've been in a nasty mood all week, ever since the hearings were ended. I don't understand it and I'm tired of asking you about it. You want to sulk all by yourself, fine." She held Molly up against her shoulder and patted her small back. "But, now the babies are picking up on it, so whatever the problem is fix it or get over it. I've had enough." She grabbed a huge diaper bag and slammed the car door shut. 

"You're saying I'm upsetting our children?" Toby raised his voice to be heard over Huck's increased screams. 

"Bingo." She rapidly started towards the front door of Debbie's huge early 19th century brick and stone house. "Hurry up with Huck, that's his 'I need my diaper changed' howl." 

Toby hoisted Huck higher on his shoulder and slammed the car door shut. Mumbling to himself, Toby sarcastically responded, "No kidding, Mom. Not much deduction needed there. He always needs his diaper changed." 

Andi didn't bother with the doorbell. She just juggled the diaper bag to her other hand and turned the knob. "I heard that. Move it, Buster, or you'll be sorry." 

Feeling hot moisture on his hand and shirt, Toby jogged up the walk. "Huck, I'm beginning to think Josh was right about cutting down on your food. Your stomach is like one big revolving door." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Mac?" Will's head appeared above the roof edge, his hands showing a white-knuckled grip on the top of the ladder. "Debbie says dinner is ready and for you to stop...uh well...she says to delay further work up here until after dessert is served unless you want Whiskey and Ainsley to eat your share." 

Mac laughed and caught at his baseball cap as the wind threatened to carry it off. "She said that did she? In just those words?" 

Will nervously glanced down at the ground two stories below. "I might have paraphrased some of it. Anyway she really wants you to get your... posterior... off her roof as soon as possible." 

"Come on, men," Mac motioned to the two agents and a decidedly pale Danny Concannon. "We'll take a break and join the ladies for some food. We've still got some time to complete our mission." 

Danny grinned, thinking that if his feet safely touched the ground again, there was no way he was coming back up to the slippery slate roof. He had his future children to think of, plus he'd kind of planned on giving CJ the engagement ring currently residing in his pocket without being encased in a body cast at the time. 

Inching downward towards the ladder, Danny slid the last few inches on the seat of his pants. Soon, he thought, swinging his leg over onto the ladder. He just had to find the right moment to slide it on her finger. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"How would you feel about a sushi bar at our wedding?" Donna turned to face her fiancee and pass him some of Debbie's homemade lasagna. 

"Ugh, raw fish," Josh grumbled. "Fish, like beef, needs to be well done. If it doesn't crack when it hits the floor, it's not cooked enough." 

"Do you want to put that in a fortune cookie and pass it out to our guests?" Donna asked, passing Josh the bowl of salad which he quickly passed on to Ainsley. 

"That's an idea," he said thoughtfully. "What do you think about ordering in Chinese food for the reception? It's sort of us, don't you think? Everybody could have their own little white carton and then about halfway through, we'll get everybody to pass to their left so you get to taste..." 

"How many beers have you had?" Donna looked at him suspiciously. 

"Or pizza," he continued thinking out loud. "We could order some with meatballs, some with pepperoni, that place in Dupont Circle even makes pizzas with cajun chicken. Wouldn't you like to go to a wedding where they serve all your favorite foods?" 

"Maybe we could get a cut rate on Big Macs," Donna suggested with a straight face, checking under the table for beer cans. 

"Super-size the fries so we don't look cheap," Josh advised. 

"Maybe you'd like to put up a big screen tv, right next to the band, so you don't miss the playoffs," Donna offered, swapping the beer can in front of Josh's plate for a bottle of seltzer. 

"Only if the Mets make the playoffs which doesn't look likely," Josh said mournfully. "Otherwise I think we can keep the tv in the bar area and we'll just check in every 15 minutes." 

Donna reached past Josh and took back the salad bowl from Ainsley before the petite Republican emptied its contents. Deftly scooping some lettuce onto Josh's plate, Donna offered one last suggestion. "Maybe you'd like to go on your honeymoon by yourself." 

Josh grinned. "Okay, if you insist. But Hawaii would be more fun with someone to party with. Will, you want to go?" 

The younger man nodded affirmatively, his mouth too full of ravioli to speak. 

"Hawaii?" Donna's face beamed. "We're really going to Hawaii?" 

"Well, Will and I are." Josh ducked and her slap landed on the back of Toby's head instead. 

"Donna," the Communications Director growled, wiping tomato sauce off his tie, "what if the President had been sitting here? The Secret Service would have had to shoot you!" 

Andi shushed him and took over the cleaning of his tie. 

Jed smiled at the embarrassed blonde. "Never happen, Toby. I know better than to sit next to Josh." 

Will swallowed. "So when do we leave? I'll need to schedule a few sessions in a tanning booth first." 

"Sugar, you're not going anywhere without me, so just get that thought right out of your head." Ainsley leaned over and kissed the young man's cheek. "Pass the garlic bread, please." 

"Ainsley, how about some more green beans?" the President offered, trying to move the bowl away from him. "Since you saved our bacon the other day, you can have my share." He frowned as she declined. He was beginning to think it was a conspiracy. No matter how many times he passed the bowl, it kept ending up next to his plate. 

"Still don't like green beans, Sir?" CJ joked, remembering the vegetable PR disaster she'd had to spin during their first term. 

Danny grinned. "That was a good story. Tell me, Mr. President, did you carry Oregon during the last election?" 

Jed chuckled. "I think Josh said we squeaked it. Too bad Charlie's not here. He still blames himself for that interview that had the green bean farmers threatening to have their state secede from the Union." 

Debbie walked in from the kitchen with a second pan of lasagna, followed by Mac with his hands filled with another bowl of salad and a plate piled high with sliced garlic bread. 

"Where is Charlie?" Debbie asked, setting the pan down. "And Leo? I thought he was coming." 

Margaret, who had just returned from taking food to the agents outside, brushed back her wind-blown hair, saying, "Leo had a meeting with an old friend from Chicago. He said he'd try to be here in time for dessert." 

"What about Charlie?" Mac asked. "I could use his help up top later." 

"Charlie's gone to visit his grandparents. Deanna is going to meet him there," Jed stated, holding his plate out for Debbie to fill with the pasta. He glanced over at Margaret as she sat down in the empty seat next to him. "Did Ron get enough to eat?" 

Margaret started to answer, then blushed as she realized everyone was looking at her. "I really wouldn't know," she lied. 

Jed's booming laughter was contagious. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Hey Leo, got a minute?" Danny approached the makeshift bar that Mac had set up on the kitchen table. He grabbed himself a Bud Lite and opened the icy bottle. Taking a drink, he grimaced at the taste. He really preferred the regular stuff, but he needed to watch his calories so he'd look good in a Speedo when he and CJ went to Aruba for their honeymoon. 

The Chief of Staff was alone, leaning against the kitchen counter and sipping from a can of Coke. The forlorn remains of a chocolate cake and a stack of dirty china plates littered the counter next to his elbow. He nodded in answer to the red-haired reporter. 

"I wanted to...That is I understand...I was hoping..." Danny was frustrated that his normally loquacious self had suddenly gone AWOL. He felt like he did when he came to pick up Megan O'Dwyer for the junior prom. Within seconds, her father had him stammering like Daffy Duck and promising, on penalty of death, that the virginal Megan would return with her virtue intact. For some reason Leo managed to reduce him to that state without saying a word. He drew a deep breath and tried again. 

"Leo, we've known each other a long time - long before the Bartlet campaign. Hell, even before you were Secretary of Labor. A college friend of mine clerked at your Boston law firm, so I heard stories about the great Leo McGarry for years before you went into politics. I've always admired you and your work. I hoped that you had a certain level of respect for me. You know, I've worked for five major newspapers and was a stringer for the AP in Moscow and later in Afghanistan when the Soviets invaded. I was in China sending stories back during the Tiananmen Square Massacre. I've covered two Presidents and five campaigns. I've written two books. Leo, I've won a Pulitzer Prize, for God's sake!" 

"Is there a reason you feel the need to recite your resume?" Leo asked cooly, crumpling up his empty soda pop can. "We're not hiring right now." 

"I don't need a job. I have a job. A job I'm dammed good at," Danny snapped. "It seems you've forgotten I'm a pro. I don't need CJ leaking me insider information in order to do my job." The reporter drained half his bottle in frustration. 

"I'm quite aware that *you* know how to do your job," Leo fired back, his gaze drifting to the numerous bottles of beer stuck in a metal bucket on the table. The ice in the bucket was just starting to melt. 

"Are you suggesting that CJ doesn't know how to do her job?" Danny asked incredulously. "After six years working for the President, after saving your butts countless times as this Administration bungles one thing after another, you're saying that Claudia Jean Cregg doesn't know how to separate the professional from the personal?" 

"At times, yes! But mostly it's the appearance..." Leo gruffly began. 

"If you're so worried about appearances, tell me how you survived as Chief of Staff once the news got out that you are a recovering alcoholic and drug addict? Tell me how you're still here given the fact that you fell off the wagon during the first campaign?" Danny angrily countered, taking another swig of beer. 

The look of shock that passed over Leo's face was startling. His pale countenance grew deathly white. 

"Of course I knew about the campaign incident. And hell no, I didn't know about it from CJ. I'm not even sure she knows. But I took the measure of the man and passed on the story," Danny said heatedly. "Just so you know, I also passed on a certain war crimes allegation that a supposed friend of yours brought me last year." 

The reporter drained the last of his beer, then added, "Now how about you cut CJ some slack about our relationship? We're together. Deal with it!" 

Danny turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. 

Leo picked up a bottle of beer and unscrewed the top. His hand shaking, he brought the bottle to his mouth. The smell of the alcohol almost overwhelmed him. 

"No," he whispered, slamming down the bottle on the table and watching the amber liquid fizz over. "No." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"We're running out of time," the President complained, looking at his watch. "Maybe Mac needs more help up there." 

"I doubt it, Sir," Toby grumbled from his position on the couch in the den. He leaned over and pulled up the blanket covering his son in the play pen. "You send any more agents up there, the extra weight is going to have them all crashing down onto Debbie's antique half-tester Louis XV bed." 

Jed Bartlet grinned. "What do you know about my secretary's bed?" 

"I've been treated to an endless, and exceedingly detailed, description from Andi. I think maybe Debbie is in the market to sell it and Andi is in the market to have me buy it -like I don't have enough bills to pay as it is." 

"Now, Toby. Don't decide to pass on it too quickly. Sometimes a new bed peps up your sex life." 

Toby blushed. "Believe me, Sir. Pep is not the problem anymore. I don't need a $20,000 bed that some French monarch's cousin slept in. I need someone to distract Huck for a couple of hours." 

Jed slapped Toby on the shoulder. "When Abbey gets back from Peru, bring the babies over to the residence for a night. She'd love it." Jed checked his watch again. "By the way - do you know why my wife went to Peru?" 

"No, Sir. But I'm sure Leo knows. You might ask him." 

"Yeah, well..." Jed sighed. "He left a few minutes ago. Said something about a meeting he'd almost forgotten." 

"Is something wrong?" Toby asked, suddenly uneasy about the Chief of Staff's recurring absences from their recent gatherings. 

The President deliberately misunderstood the question. "Nah. I guess I'll find out what Abbey's up to when she gets back. Hope she didn't negotiate some trade agreement that I'll have to take to Congress. They're not too happy with me right now." 

"I'm sure she's-" 

The big screen television flickered to life. 

"Hey," the President gleefully exclaimed. "They got the dish connected. We're going to be able to see the game. Think Van Dyke's going to break his foul ball record?" 

Toby smirked. "You know, Sir, most people are interested in the more traditional stats - runs batted in, home runs, strikeouts, etc." 

"Nah, that's no fun," Bartlet said, sitting down next to Toby and turning up the sound. "I like seeing that moment when a seemingly foul ball turns slightly and crosses the inbound line. That's excitement." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Are you coming to bed anytime soon?" an exhausted Mac asked, doubling over his pillow and sticking it behind his head. He really should have let the younger guys crawl around on the roof. Right now his back was killing him. 

"Soon," she called from the bathroom. "You can turn off the light if you want." 

He leaned over and started to click off the lamp, but his fingers hesitated on the red porcelain base. The lamp had to be the ugliest one ever created, but Debbie seemed to be attached to it. "I've never seen gargoyles on a lamp before. Where in the hell did you get this thing?" 

"Spain," she answered, turning off the bathroom light and stepping into the bedroom, a bottle of skin lotion in her hand. "The gargoyles are supposed to protect you from evil." 

"I've got a gun to do that," he joked, then wished he could call back the word gun as a horrified expression crossed her face. 

"Here in the house?" she asked, approaching the bed. "Where?" 

"In a lock box in the closet you assigned me." He patted the mattress, urging her to sit down. "I have to have one, Debbie. I still have enemies out there." 

She sighed and sat, staring at the bottle in her hand. "I hate it that you're still working for them." 

"I know." He tugged on her arm and pulled her down to lie half on, half off him. "I hate your lamp." 

She raised her head and stared at him. "That's the best you can do?" 

He smiled and ignored her question, instead asking one of his own. "What are you planning to do with that lotion?" 

"I saw you doubling up on the Tylenol. I was going to rub your back." 

"And now?" he asked, his voice hopeful. 

"You insulted my lamp." 

"As long as I'm on your list, can I ask if you managed to pawn this bed off on the good Congresswoman?" 

Debbie sighed. "I don't know why you hate sleeping on this bed. It's gorgeous." 

"I don't mind sleeping on it but I don't like doing anything else on it," he explained, taking the bottle from her hands and setting it on the bedside table. "It squeaks loud enough to wake the dead. Then, gargoyles or not, Whiskey starts howling like the devil himself is in the house." 

Debbie laughed. "I thought that squeaking was your knees, old man." 

"Not yet, although after today..." He kissed her neck, his fingers moving to untie her robe. 

She pressed her mouth to his, then reluctantly stilled his hand. "Don't start something you can't finish." 

He chuckled, then groaned as a muscle in his back knotted up. "You have a point. I'll be lucky to get downstairs and let Whiskey out to do her business." 

"I did that before I came up here," Debbie assured him, reaching for the lotion bottle. "Turn over." 

Carefully rolling over on his stomach, he complied. "Where is she then?" 

Debbie knelt next to him and warmed some lotion between her hands. "Sitting in the living room window seat, waiting for the neighbor's cat to appear." 

Mac groaned as her hands began kneading his lower back. "If that cat was smart she'd stay on her side of the fence and stop teasing Whiskey. Next time I'm afraid Whiskey will do more than take off one of her ears." 

"Some animals, just like some humans, enjoy taking risks; they like living on the edge." 

"Are you trying to say something to me?" Mac asked, turning over and staring up at her in amusement. 

"I don't want you getting yourself killed!" She trailed her hand over his chest, tracing a few of the old scars marring his graying yet well-muscled chest. 

He smiled, then reached up and turned off the lamp, plunging them into darkness. "Don't worry, Dar'lin. I'm like that mangy cat out there - we've both got nine lives." 

"I'm serious," she protested, as he tugged her towards him. 

"I know. Come here." 

Debbie sighed and lay down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and positioning her arm across his waist. 

"Mac?" 

"Yeah?" He hugged her, his hand idly stroking her hip as he began to drift towards sleep. 

Her lips grazed his chest and an old bullet scar. "Just how many lives do you have left?" 

"Enough," he whispered, holding her tighter. "Enough." 

The end. 


End file.
